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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039317">Gloom &amp; Doom All Up in Your Room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCollector/pseuds/TrashCollector'>TrashCollector</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU prejudice, Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Bad guys, But Also!, Domestic Fluff, Drama, EVERY Sans is a gremlin, F/M, Gratuitous Swearing, Home Universe is Undertale, Monsters on the Surface, Multi, Reader Just Wants To Help, Reader-Insert, Sans is a gremlin, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, evil sans, maybe not so bad, more tags as I think of them, no exceptions, reader is bad at helping, skeletons keep showing up in your living room, you should probably do something about that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:34:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCollector/pseuds/TrashCollector</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with one moody skeleton crash-landing in your home. Then he started bringing friends. All of a sudden your apartment is a multidimensional nexus for an awful lot of monsters named 'Sans.' They're all a little rough around the edges, but they're sweet in their owns ways. You probably should have guessed they were the "bad guys" though. Oops?</p><p>Alternate Summary: BadGuysOnly reverse harem</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dust!Sans/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Sans(Horrortale)/Reader, you/Sans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1725</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A rude awakening leads to a ruder house guest.</p><p>No betas, we die like men (who can't spell)!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You think it was the vibration, not the noise, that woke you. Noise came with living in an apartment building. Dogs, car alarms, children. You had learned to tune it out. But very rarely did something hit your floor so hard it shook. And your floor had shook. And you were shook. So you were up! And awake! And alarmed!</p><p>It had come from your living room, you think. Everything was quiet now. Had you dreamed it? Maybe, but there was no going back to sleep until you had checked to make sure. Sending a silent thanks to your parents, who had gifted you the Aluminum Baseball Bat of Protection when you had moved out, you untangled yourself from your wad of bedding and fetched the bat from under your bed.</p><p>Your apartment...wasn't big. Which meant right beyond your bedroom door was whatever had gone Thunk in the Night. You opened the door slowly, the nightlight from your kitchen casting an eerie yellow glow across the area. You peeked around. Everything seemed normal. The front door was shut, your fish tank was burbling happily, and your bookcases were all upright. You could probably stand to dust in the morning if the fine coating on your coffee table was anything to go by, but nothing was tipped over.</p><p>But something <em>was</em> moving. Reflected in the glass of your fish tank, so faint it almost wasn't there, something shifted. Barely red in the dim lighting, and flowing like fabric. You tracked the angle with your eyes. If it was showing toward the top of the tank, then it was hiding behind your couch.</p><p>You grimaced, tightening your grip on your Bat of Protection. You had seen enough horror movies to know how this usually went down, but hiding in your room didn't sound like a great option either. No escape there until you wanted to chance a three story drop out the window.</p><p>“you just gonna stand there, human?”</p><p>You did not scream. You did not squawk. You certainly didn't yelp. You absolutely made a completely dignified noise and calmly around around the couch to greet you intruder. No scrambling or bat-hefting involved.</p><p>A pair dull, flat red eyes peered up at you from a lump on the floor.</p><p>“Oh! Holy shit dude.” You lowered your bat and put your free hand over your heart, “Oh man, you're just a monster. God, that was scary, what the hell?”</p><p>“just a monster?” the blob on the ground questioned coldly.</p><p>“Yeah, love and compassion and magic and all that. Twenty years topside and apparently you guys just don't <em>do</em> crimes? Well, except breaking and entering apparently. Without the breaking?”</p><p>You flinched at the loud, and frankly unhinged laughter that spilled out of your houseguest(?).</p><p>“i'll be happy to give you a break, human.” A hand, thin and skeletal shot out of the darkness and grabbed your ankle, jerking you off your feet and onto the ground, “you stupid fu-ugh!” Your sudden attacker shuddered and gagged, a thick wet sound, and the hand retreated to curl around their chest.</p><p>Now that you were closer, you could see that this wasn't some lump-based-monster (hey, you'd seen moldsmols, you weren't going to question) but a humanoid shape, arms and legs folded around themselves as they hunched back over.</p><p>“Whoa, hey, what the hell?” You scrambled backwards, your eyes flicking from the dark figure in front of you to your ankle. Sure, those phalanges left you with a couple scrapes (and a bruise on your ass, if you had to guess), but that was a lot of blood left on your leg. You rubbed at it, watching as it flaked off into dust at your touch.</p><p>“Listen, are you hurt, or-? Do you need help?” you tried again, scooting forward and reaching out. Shards of red, vertical and sharp flickered in the air and crackled into nonexistence around you.</p><p>“don't touch me.”</p><p>“Ok, ok, fine, but can you just, just wait. Right there. I'll be right back!”</p><p>You stumbled up and beelined for the kitchen. Your goal was hidden behind a few bags of chips, but was easy enough to get to.</p><p>The red-eyed monster hadn't moved, not that you were gone long, but glared at you balefully as you slid to the side of the couch. You're pretty sure you heard them growl too.</p><p>“Yes, yes, don't touch, ok, but please.” you pulled a small wrapped candy out of it's crinkly packaging, “It's monster candy. I use it for headaches.” you rolled it across the cheap apartment carpet towards the injured monster.</p><p>That skeletal hand (because indeed, the hand up to the sleeve of his jacket was all bone) snatched it up quickly, those red eyes flicking to the candy, to you, and back.</p><p>“you just rolled it across the fucking floor.”</p><p>“If you don't dust on your own, I'm going to kill you, please just eat the damn thing.” You buried your face in your knees.</p><p>The monster moved, his hood shrugging back as he pushed the candy in between his teeth. It dissolved instantly, his jaw realigning with a crack that made <em>your</em> jaw hurt. The only difference was that his jaw was just kind of out in the open instead of covered with human bits.</p><p>You were feeding candy to an honest to god skeleton that was somehow bleeding out onto your floor.</p><p>Well, there were weirder ways to start your day. Probably.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. He LoVes You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If first is the worst, maybe second will be best?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, now that the awkward first chapter is over, let's get this ball rolling!<br/>I feel like this chapter moves too fast, but I also don't think a rundown of several months of Readers life without a skele is that interesting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>16 candies. This bottomless pit of a monster ate 16 candies. It was too early for you to math out how much HP that was, and the adrenaline of the initial intrusion to your sleep had long since worn off. The siren song of sleep was calling to you. To add to your aggravation, this candy-vacuum pretty much refused to answer any of your questions by the worst evasion techniques you had ever heard. The only thing you could glean was that his was, in fact, a 'he'.</p><p>But no word on what happened (“it was a real horrorshow”), any family or friends who could help (“not a ghost of a chance”), if there was anyone you could call (“nah, he's a nightmare to deal with”). Nothing.</p><p>At least he looked better. The dark puddle underneath him had quit spreading, and he had moved to sit cross-legged after a kneecap had crunched into place.</p><p>Both you and your companion had settled into silence, your bag of monster candy empty, your bat leaned against the wall. You weren't relaxed, exactly, but no one was actively dying or bleeding anymore, so maybe you could get away with just a little shut-eye.</p><p>“hey”</p><p>Or maybe not.</p><p>“you have any more monster food?”</p><p>You opened one eye and shrugged apologetically, “Don't keep a lot of it on hand, and I drank the last batch of sleepytime tea a few days back.” The skeleton huffed, his face twisting into a scowl in a way bones shouldn't be able to move. “Sorry. I wasn't 'pecting visitors.” You added, pausing midway for a yawn, “I'll pick up s'more next time 'm out.” You let your eye fall shut and leaned your head back against the wall.</p><p>You faintly heard a soft snap in the dark, like a bone popping or a door clicking shut. Which reminds you.</p><p>“How did you get in here and behind my couch, by the way?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Brown furrowed, you blinked and lifted your head. You were alone.</p><p> </p><p>You don't know how much sleep you got last night, but it wasn't enough. You had only been at your desk for two hours and all the coffee the break room could provide wasn't helping the screen in front of you look any less like a foreign language. It didn't help that you were still turning over the night in your head.</p><p>Literally, where did that guy come from, and where did he go? Where did he come from, Cotton-Eyed Joe?</p><p>You snorted and hid your face in your hands. Oh man, that was bad. Hopefully you could count on a good nights' sleep tonight.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Now that you were more awake, the whole situation just felt off. Wrong in a tilted way that you couldn't quite place. Racism against monsters was certainly still a thing, but that was a lot of damage to withstand and still manage to break into someone's house without actually breaking or unlocking anything. And the skeleton had just laid there, calmly bleeding out as if he hadn't needed any help at all. As if he didn't even want help. Then as suddenly as he had appeared, he has just...left. Quieter than he arrived, but in the same manner of “just being there” as he was “just suddenly not”. You had thought, in a moment of panic, that in spite of the candies, the monster had dusted on the spot. There was no pile of dust though, just a smearing of it wherever his blood had died. No clothes left over either, though you weren't sure if magic-infused clothes would dust with the wearer.</p><p> </p><p>Honestly you would have thought you had dreamt the whole thing if it weren't for the odd chalky puddle of half-dusted magic all over your carpet and couch backing. Despite your best efforts, you probably weren't getting your deposit back, but the couch wasn't too bad. Your bat was moved to a place of more honor (next to your bed instead of under it), and you went to bed that night with not just a little trepidation. Every noise had you twitching awake, half hoping it was your impromptu guest, half hoping he had made it somewhere safe and wouldn't show up with a broken everything so soon. Or ever again.</p><p>But your night was uneventful. As was the next. Nights turned to days, and days turned to weeks, and weeks became months, and the whole event became just one of those “oh man, this one time” stories you traded with friends.</p><p>It was four and a half months after a skeleton had crashed in your apartment when you stepped out of your bathroom into what looked like a murder scene. The shower had drowned out whatever must have happened, but at first glance, it looked like someone had filled a pillowcase with blood and fired it out of a cannon into your couch. Only the pillowcase was a skeleton, and the skeleton was glowing.</p><p>“Oh what the fuck.”</p><p>At your shocked whisper the skeleton twitched and rolled his head to the side. Ah, you knew those red eyes. In an acquaintance sort of way, at least.</p><p>“here again?” the skeleton grumbled, rolling upright.</p><p>“Yes! Here!! Again!!!” You tied your towel tighter around your body as you picked your way over to your repeat guest, avoiding blood where you could, “And don't think you can just disappear like time, you're going to tell me-”</p><p>The skeleton flickered, suddenly just an afterimage, and before you could blink he was in your face, a cold hand wrapped around your neck as one eyelight flickered with a cyan ring inside the red. He was much larger than you originally thought, closer to your height than you had guessed, and much stronger than you would have ever thought.</p><p>He pulled you closer to him, chest to ribcage, “i don't have to do a damn thing, <em>human</em>.” He spat your species out from his mouth like a curse.</p><p>“Then what...why?” you gasped, gagging as his grip tightened.</p><p>“i didn't have to leave you alive last time. i guess i'm back here for some unfinished business.” his voice dropped into almost a purr and you left something cold slide against your neck.</p><p>“Please, no, I...didn't I help? Last-guhk!” he shook you again.</p><p>“as thanks i'll make it quick.” the cold pressed harder, a rush of warm rolling up as your skin broke.</p><p>You couldn't speak, just wheeze as your hands scrabbled against his. He had to let go. You had to get him off you. Get him away. Somehow!</p><p>His magic was hot against your skin, soaking into your towel as it bled from his ribs. There, his jacket was open and the shirt underneath shredded. The glow from within stuttered and sparked, red oozing out of missing and shattered ribs, all held up by a lattice of broken lines of magic.</p><p>
  <em>There.</em>
</p><p>He didn't cry out when you pushed your hand against his injury. He simply...let go. The hum of his agitated magic felt silent. You could feel his...structure? The damaged magic sparking angrily against your hand, trying to push you out as you tried to push him away.</p><p>You shoved. He fell. His femur <em>bent</em> in a way bones shouldn't, a splintering noise sounding as already splintered bone finally gave way. His eyelights guttered out completely, and he was still.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh my god, I killed him.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Friendship Spaghetti</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Did you want answers? Too bad!<br/>Well, maybe just a few...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know,” you said conversationally, “it's not that I mind your visits, but some warning would be nice. And less blood on my...” you looked around the room, “on my everything would be appreciated. I'm still not even sure how you got in here.”</p><p> </p><p>You had, eventually, figured out that your guest was, in fact, not dead. Just very close to it. You wished you could run a CHECK and see how bad off he really was. Some humans could these days, a natural predisposition that could be fostered into an actual magical ability. You had taken the test yourself in your teens but came up negative for every magical trait.</p><p>A hospital would have been ideal, and it's not like that wasn't your first idea. There was just...so much dust. Which is generally a bad thing, if your hazy memories of high school species-inclusive biology were correct. So much just sort of...sifted off of him like particularly alarming snow when you picked him up (surprisingly lighter than you expected, but he <em>was </em>made of magic-shaped-like-bones), you panicked and set him on the couch. At least that's better than the floor. Probably.</p><p>You should call someone. Anyone. Any monster you lived next to or above or worked with. An ambulance even. But a part of you, a larger part than you were willing to admit to, wanted answers. Not that there were any questions beyond “What the FUCK, man?” So you were going to take care of this yourself. Hopefully.</p><p>It was just going to be a night of poor choices, you had decided.</p><p>Fortunately you had stocked up on more candy. The store also had a sale on sleepy-time tea and something new called Pep-Up-in-a-Cup, which turned out to be basically an energy shot that didn't taste like ass. You might have picked up a few other sundries. Just in case.</p><p>You were pretty sure you shouldn't try to feed unconscious people, tea, candy, or otherwise. So here you sat, in a small pile of dead magic (dying monster?) dust, delicately smearing what looked like offensively green vasoline across what used to be a rib cage while the owner of the former-rib-cage seemed to stare up at the ceiling with dead, empty sockets. He wasn't responding, so you guessed he was still out.</p><p> </p><p>Based on the damage you were looking at, it might be preferable to being awake in the long run. Everything looked very 'blunt-force trauma-y', not that you had any medical experience, but since everything was cracked, missing, or just vaguely floating in a spindly web of....(you checked your phone again) web of mana lines, it was hard to tell where to try to heal.</p><p>
  <em>'Start at the injuries closest to the soul and work your way outward. For serious injuries is it important to repair and reopen the paths of magic in-to-out.'</em>
</p><p>Aren't monsters just sort of...made of magic? Almost entirely? Why are there paths? Where do skeletons keep their souls?? Maybe you should have paid more attention in health class.</p><p>“I should get an A for effort at least,” you grumbled, scrolling through the rest of the magicmedicine-dot-monster website, “Do you think the part of your ribs connected to the sternum are closer to your soul, or the part of your ribs that curve in from the sides?” you peered over him, gingerly pulling some of the sliced t-shirt (which sort of negated your blunt-force-trauma guess) away from the glow of cracked and chipped away side ribs, “I mean, you're missing chunks of both, so I guess it doesn't matter much.”</p><p>As you went, the glow of broken and damaged magic ebbed away, still present but less harsh, the angry glare fading to a dim glow. A sore spot instead of an open wound. Still missing chunks though, you noticed with a grimace. You were hoping that somehow the <em>literal magic</em> healing paste would maybe...regrow the bone? If you squinted and tilted your head, the shards of bone (the ones horrifically floating in a mass of active magic and magic-that-looked-like-blood) looked bigger. Maybe.</p><p>“I might have to get a monster-doctor to come here, if we can't move you to a hospital after all this. Doctor? Healer? I think doctors are for humans, but there are monsters who are doctors for humans and healers for monsters so I think the two are starting to mean the same thing.”</p><p>“stop talking.”</p><p>You shrieked, fumbling the small tin of healing goop. Your boney guest had regained consciousness at some point during your ramblings, his eye lights small, but lit and trained on you.</p><p>The hair on the back of your neck prickled, but whether from malicious magic that crackled in the air, or just the raw hate in those sockets, it was hard to tell.</p><p>“Sorry. I was just...” you squeaked as you waved the medicinal paste at him vaguely, “helping?”</p><p>His gaze flicked from you to the tin, then down to his ribcage, a morbid Christmas mosaic of glowing red and green smeared over white bone. His expression shifted into a sneer as he moved to sit up.</p><p>Whatever he was going to say cut off into a choke as his injuries visibly throbbed at the attempt, flaring bright red as he crumpled back onto the couch.</p><p>“Oh fuck, don't!” Your free hand fluttered uselessly in the air, the other tightening into a deathgrip on the medicine.</p><p>He huffed once, sharp and angry through his nature aperture.</p><p>“Are you-”</p><p>“shut up. don't <em>touch</em> me, don't <em>talk</em> to me.”</p><p>Your eyes narrowed. Jackass. Maybe he was just grumpy because he was in pain. Probably not though.</p><p>You sat still, and quiet. The only noise was the short, raspy breaths of the skeleton as the angry glow of his broken bones began to fade again. The only movement came from the fish in your tank, casually unaware of their owner's terrible evening. You let your eyes drift to the movement, watching them flash from one side to the other. Maybe they were bothered by the red glow from the couch? The way the light bounced, it almost looked like two bright red eyes looking back through the opposite side of the tank. You'd feed them extra later as an apology. Because damn, that was creepy.</p><p> </p><p>The silence was killing you. Metaphorically speaking. Though you might end up dead by bedtime. You guessed the odds were 50/50, but you weren't much for gambling and your guest wasn't much for moving anymore. The menacing aura in the room had died down, especially now that your couch skeleton was staring at the ceiling. It was kind of a relief, not having those socket bore into your soul like that, but you bet he'd start it up again if you tried to say something. Still, if you doubled down, could he <em>really</em> do anything about it? He clearly couldn't even sit up, you technically had all the cards in this situation. You were so busy mulling over your gambling metaphor that when he finally spoke, it startled you.</p><p>“what do you want?”</p><p>“What?! Uh, I, uh, I mean, what?” Eloquent. Good job there, self.</p><p>“for all this. there's no way all this shit was cheap, and i'm free exp right now, so you don't want my dust...so what do you want instead?” he asked tonelessly, speaking casually to the ceiling like he was discussing the weather.</p><p>“I don't really want anything, you didn't-” CRACK. A sharp red bone jutted out of the carpet at a sharp angle, it's end pointed directly at you and stopped just shy of your face. Or it would have been if it hadn't been two feet to the left of you and stabbing into your coffee table instead.</p><p>“Your aim is bad, you owe me a new coffee table, and you have better things to do with your magic right now. Stop threatening me.” You did your best to sound stern and hope he couldn't hear your heart beating staccato in you chest.</p><p>The bone crumbled as he turned to face the back on the couch. A reddish purple glow was echoed on the fabric. “nobody wants 'nothing'. Even if you really are as stupid as you act, you have a reason.”</p><p>“Oh my god, you fucking edgelord,” you buried your face in your hands, “I want you to stop threatening me. I want some answers. I want to cut the shit of this whole: me, helping, you, being weird about it, and then we get back to square one. And maybe I want a new couch at this point.”</p><p>“heh.”</p><p>You peeked up just in time to watch the skeleton's first real smile quirk up on his skull.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I'm betting you'll need something more than candy to eat,” you said, going into your kitchen and starting to root through your cabinets, “I don't keep a lot of magic-based food on hand, mostly just nice-cream and- oh, hey, how about friendship spaghetti?”</p><p>“w h a t.”</p><p>“Y-yeah? It's uh,” <em>it's a scary expression for a skeleton holy shit! </em>“a new-ish brand? MTT&amp;P Friendship Spaghetti, 100% magic, 200% passion, glitter not included.” you read off the side of the box.</p><p>“huh. that...that would be fine.” your guest relaxed, only fractionally, but the pain lines on his face-bones seemed to lighten as he leaned back into his pillow-throne.</p><p>It had taken a long time of shifting and folding pillows, but you eventually got him propped up into a siting position for sea tea and candy, but it was only doing so much. What he needed was rest, and time. Two things he insisted he couldn't stick around for. He had also vetoed actual help from anyone outside your apartment. So you were going to solve your problems with food. It was not healthy, human or monster, but it was the best you could do.</p><p>You couldn't really call it 'domestic', the air was a little too charged with uncertainty as you waited for the water to boil. The skeleton kept his eyes trained on you almost all the time, only sometimes pausing to focus on something in the middle-distance. It was unnerving. All the cards were on the table though, to resume your previous metaphor. You were skirting around him just as much as he was skirting around you. You had a lot of questions, and could kill him with the wrong intent. He was injured and mostly unable to defend himself, but he, without a doubt, knew way too many ways to kill you before you even got close. It wasn't exactly an even power split of the situation.</p><p>He seemed content to watch you for now as you cooked, warming up a magic-infused alfredo sauce in the microwave as he stared a hole in the back of your head.</p><p>You wished he would blink. He did not.</p><p>Time moved awfully slow when you were waiting for water to boil and noodles to cook and a couch-bound monster to maybe attack you again but probably won't but <em>maybe</em>.</p><p>“So,” you started, turning to look back at the skeleton, “do you feel up to answering why you keep crash landing in my living room?”</p><p>He cocked his head to side and was quiet for a moment before answering, “this universe is a hair's breadth away from the world I was trying to go to. just a small variation in direction, but in a directionless void, the smallest bit of magic going off course can drag someone somewhere completely different. that 'completely different' somewhere happens to be seven feet in the air in your living room.”</p><p>You blinked, and dumped in the pasta while you digested that information. “You realize that makes you sound completely crazy.” you settled on replying.</p><p>His smile was unsettlingly wide again. “i am. but that doesn't mean i'm wrong.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>The noodles cooked fast, and before long you had two bowls of friendship alfredo, you guessed. Sitting down by the couch, you took your first bite, chewing slowly as you handed your guest his share.</p><p>“Ok, maybe you should start at the beginning then. I'm not saying I believe you, but I might as well get the whole story before I decide.”</p><p>“my name is sans,” he says finally as the first forkful of noodles sort of evaporate in the back on his mouth, “but everyone just calls me dust.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, show of hands, who guessed it, and how did you figure it out?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Splish Splash</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A lot of talking in this chapter.  Salty Skelle is still salty.<br/>Reader has a lot to think about. Reader decides not to think about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“So, let me double check that I've got this right,” you swirled your hot chocolate in it's mug as you chewed on a marshmellow. His story had taken long enough that the two of you had moved to dessert: tea with too much sugar for him, hot chocolate for you, “For various reasons, depending on the universe, time looped. A lot. In an effort to escape, or for other reasons, again, depending on the universe, a machine was made that could jump universes, so a lot of the-” you wrinkled your nose, “Sanses? Know each other now. And you're part of a small group that was ostracized due to choices made during their respective loop, or because you can't get along. For even more various reasons.”</p><p>“that is an accurate summary of what i just told you, yes.”</p><p>“That is the vaguest bullshit I've ever heard.”</p><p>“you don't believe me.” Dust said it as a statement.</p><p>“It's not that I don't believe you, it's that you're intentionally hedging.” you argued back, gesturing a wide circle with your spoon.</p><p>The skeletons smile widened, “fine. i needed more power to stop the cause of my time loop. more LV than them. only one way to get that, y'know.”</p><p>“Ah. That's...well it explains all the dust on you. And the name. And all the attempted murder.”</p><p>“i'm not sorry.”</p><p>“Did it work?”</p><p>Dust looked at you, startled red eyelights shrunk into little pips. You couldn't meet his gaze as he slowly relaxed back against the couch.</p><p>“yes.”</p><p>His grin was hitched up, sharp and wide and fake, though his voice was toneless. Dead.</p><p>“i won, but there wasn't a reset. my underground is empty.”</p><p>You considered your impromptu sleepover guest. Dust wasn't much for emoting, you had noticed, and it didn't take much extrapolation to figure out where his EXP came from, but this was the first time you had seen him so hollow. Well, <em>conscious</em> and hollow. Not that you had seen him much at all. Ever...</p><p>You were hosting a murderer on your couch. And you weren't sure what to do with that information.</p><p>“So. This heart to heart has been great. Alarming, but great. I have no idea what to do with that information. So I'm going to just...chew on that for a while. Metaphorically. Now I have to ask: are you going to try to kill me again when you can stand?”</p><p>Dust tipped his head to the side, his gaze cutting to your fishtank.</p><p>“can't. i ate the spaghetti,” he chuckled, his gaze sliding back to you, “we're friends now. it's the rules.”</p><p>“You kind of, uh, murdered your friends underground though.” you pointed out, wincing as the skeleton snorted in amusement.</p><p>“did you want me to kill you? got a death wish? i wouldn't mind, i figure i owe you a favor by now.”</p><p>“Ah, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, just forget it, <em>please</em>. Follow your spaghetti rule.” you waved your hands at him, eliciting a proper laugh out of your guest.</p><p>“you're not on the chopping block kid, promise.”</p><p>You breathed a sigh of relief, tension you didn't realize you were carrying rolling off your shoulders, “Thanks, I think.” you rubbed your forehead tiredly before taking a long gulp of your drink. It wasn't magic, but the warmth helped you shake of the chill of hosting a mass murderer.</p><p>After the two of you had gotten to the dregs of your respective drinks, his a lump of undissolved sugar and yours a blob of melted chocolate, you set your sights on the next step of 'helping'.</p><p> </p><p>Which is how Dust ended up sitting completely naked in a tiny apartment bathroom in a half-filled tub. You had promised him his privacy, leaving out a towel and an oversized nightshirt to change into while you salvaged what you could from his clothes. The shirt was a goner for sure but he hoped you wouldn't end up ruining his jacket. It was his favorite. And his only one.</p><p>It was going to take a long while to get over the sting of indignity at hat having to let a human, of all things, help him get naked. At least you had left before trying to pull down his shorts. There wasn't anything to see down there, of course, he didn't have the inclination or the magic to spare. He supposed it might have been funny to have something formed if he had the magic for it, but right now everything was going into healing his injuries.</p><p>The paper-thin matrix had thickened from your food and care. He had run several several CHECKS on you on his first 'visit' and this one as well, and while it was apparent that you were no mage (even the dumbest mage would have noticed <em>that</em> many pings against their soul) there was still enough intent pushed into the food you made to speed his recovery. If his LV weren't so high- well, anyone more susceptible to intent than him would have probably been knocked out cold by the <em>''YOU HEAL UP RIGHT GODDAMN NOW'</em> that practically radiated off of everything you made for him.</p><p>Even this bath held some of that intent, or maybe that was some of the healing gel you had diffused into the hot water. It was nice, he had to admit, letting the warmth of the water sink into his bones as he leaned back.</p><p>It wasn't quiet in this home. The building was filled with too many people, the distant hum of electronics and other people overshadows by the noises of dishes and laundry being done one wall over, and if he listened very hard, he could pick out strains of a song, a wordless melody you were singing along to as you went. No, it wasn't quiet. But it was peaceful.</p><p>“ENJOYING YOURSELF BROTHER?”</p><p>Dust scowled. Nevermind.</p><p>“done playing with the fish, pap?”</p><p>The translucent head of his long-dead brother chuckled, settling down to 'rest' on a pair of red disembodied gloves. “FOR NOW. THIS IS QUITE A LOVELY VACATION HOME YOU'VE FOUND FOR US. HOW LONG DO YOU THINK IT WILL TAKE YOU TO RUIN IT?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:( Papyrus is so mean!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. And There Was Only One Bed!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dust is having a bad time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dust sighed and sunk further down into the water, ignoring the throbbing of his ribs as water sloshed into his acoustic meatus. It didn't actually do anything to quiet the vengeful ghost that was his brother now, but the message behind the movement was enough to aggravate the chattering spirit.</p><p>“I AM SO!!!! UNAPPRECIATED!!!” Papyrus waved one hand in the air as if to dispel his own disappointment, “I'M ONLY TRYING TO BE THE GREATEST BROTHER FOR YOU SANS. I'M LOOKING OUT FOR YOU! BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”</p><p>“yeah paps, you're the coolest,” Dust mumbled, closing his eyes as his LV thrummed inside his bones, a response to his brother's goading.</p><p>“DUST-LUST ALREADY SANS? I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M SURPRISED. LUCKY FOR YOU, THERE'S A SOFT LITTLE HUMAN RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR! YOU AREN'T ABOVE KILLING YOUR FRIENDS, JUST LOOK AT ME! YOUR OWN BROTHER! WHAT GOOD IS A PROMISE IF--”</p><p>“yeah paps, i know.” His own voice echoed back at him through the muddled reverberations of the water.</p><p>“DON'T INTRRUPT!” Papyrus tutted, looking around the small bathroom speculatively, “YOU KNOW, SANS-”</p><p>“please don't start.” Dust could feel his head starting to hurt, the LV now bright and burning in his soul.</p><p>“WHAT DID I JUST SAY? BESIDES, I'M ONLY TRYING TO HELP! YOU'VE BEEN SO...” in leu of words, his ghostly brother made unenthusiastic 'jazz hands' with his disembodied gloves. “...BESIDES, YOU <em>WANT</em> TO! HUMANS DON'T BLEED LIKE MONSTERS DO, THERE'S SO MUCH TO WORK WITH. IT WILL BE SO MUCH FUN!”</p><p>Dust took a deep breath, focusing on the throb of his injuries and the sound of moving water around his skull. Papyrus was undeterred.</p><p>“YOU WOULD FEEL BETTER.” No, he wouldn't. “WHAT'S A LITTLE MORE LOVE?” Wasn't what he had enough? “HER HOME IS ALREADY SATURATED IN GORE THANKS TO YOU. YOU COULD THINK OF IT LIKE...WHY, LIKE AN UNDERPAINTING! WITH HER HELP, YOU COULD MAKE IT SO PRETTY!” It...it <em>would</em> be. “SHE WOULD BE HELPING US!” She would? “WITH MORE EXP, YOU'D BE STRONGER!” He'd be <em>better</em>. “THAT'S THE SPIRIT! NYEH HEH!” He could make it quick... “BUT WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?” The walls were too thin. “THERE ARE MANY WAYS TO KEEP A HUMAN QUIET.” And the <em>more they hurt.</em>.. “THE MORE EXP YOU GAIN!” Yeah. <em>Yeah, he could do this. The EXP would settle his soul. Quiet the hurt. You'd understand. He'd help you understand. It would be fine. It would be fine. It would be fine. He wanted this. Needed this. To scatter blood and dust and it would be fine. He'd do it for his brother. Always for his brother. He was a good brother, so he could do this and it would be fine. He was sure your screams would be so pretty. It would be fine. Itwouldbefineitwouldbefineitwouldbefinehewantedneededandeverythingwouldbefine.</em></p><p>“-st? Dust?? Are you okay?!” your voice drifted through the door, the intent carried with it smashing into the rush of rising LoVe like a wave, rolling him under effortlessly.</p><p>Concern and warmth. He was temporarily drowning as it washed away the creeping blood lust, leaving him cold and tired in the tepid water.</p><p>“I don't know what you've got, but cover it up if you care, I'm coming in!” You flung open the door and marched in, one hand up over your eyes for propriety's sake. The sentiment would have been more effective if you weren't peeking through them to assess the situation.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Oh. Oh he looked rough. The matrix over his ribs was glowing hot, though his bones looked near grey, and he was almost rattling against the porcelain. Whatever boost he got from the food must have worn off, and the water was probably freezing right now. You felt a pang of guilt. You shouldn't have left him alone.</p><p>Dust looked up at you, eyelights small and hard as he heaved himself upright. His feet (feet bones?) scrabbled for purchase on the smooth bottom of the tub. “m'ok, m'up.”</p><p>“You are not!” You darted forward.</p><p>“don't!”</p><p>You froze, arm midway reaching out as he gripped at the edge of the tub. His breath came out in short, quick pants as his gaze flicked around the room.</p><p>“Sorry, I'm sorry, you just...weren't answering. I, uh, guess you fell asleep?” To stop your flailing mid-air reach, you grabbed up the towel you had left out and offered that instead, deciding that the wall was far more interesting than the naked skeleton in your bathtub.</p><p>Dust, under the pretext of taking the towel, grabbed your arm to steady himself as he half stepped, half crawled out of the tub. You, under the similar pretext of handing him the towel, held still until the towel was actually taken, at which point the wall behind you was even more interesting than the wall next to you.</p><p>“Sooo, I realize now is an incredibly awkward time to ask,” you started, but Dust interrupted.</p><p>“ridiculous, this is going to be stupid, isn't it? Where's my stupid shirt?”</p><p>“Spare shirt is on the toilet lid. As I was saying, this is a terrible time to ask, seeing as how you are completely naked-”</p><p>“really, i hadn't noticed.”</p><p>“-but would you like to spend the night?”</p><p>“i don't want to spend one more second on your shitty couch than i have to, so no.”</p><p>“Oh, no, I dug out my old sleeping bag from who knows when, you can bunk in my room.”</p><p>“what, i don't get the bed?”</p><p>“You don't deserve the bed.”</p><p>“fair. still no.”</p><p>You started as he flipped the wet towel over your head, ducking around you to escape the confines of your toilet. You shrugged it off into the clothes basket before following. “Dust, you could barely get out of the tub, you're still really hurt!”</p><p>The skeleton turned around, his arm curled protectively around his shattered ribcage, “and what do you get out of this, human?”</p><p>“______”</p><p>“what?”</p><p>“______, it's my name. Use it. Also, I get to know that my very expensive magic food didn't go to waste right away when you blip out to wherever you go and get the shit kicked out of you again.”</p><p>Though you knew Dust was only a few inches shorter than you, he seemed a lot smaller without his jacket and murderous aura. It was hard to be intimidated by a glowering skeleton in a bright yellow “You wanna pizza me?” novelty t-shirt.</p><p>“no. where is my jacket, i'm leaving.”</p><p>“Washing machine,” you jerked your head towards the shutter doors that hid your washer and dryer nook, “I'm not letting you leave with wet clothes either, you'll catch your death.”</p><p>“i am death...”</p><p>You weren't sure if you were supposed to hear that, as low as it was muttered, but let yourself be moved with a shove by Dust's good-side elbow as he stalked into your bedroom.</p><p>“if your bedding is shit, i'm stealing yours.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Dust?” Your room was dark, barely lit by parking lot lights as you stared at the ceiling.</p><p>He grunted in reply, face down in a stack of your pillows (he had stolen the ones off your bed).</p><p>“I figure you're going to disappear by the time I get up for work, because talking to you is like talking to Batman-”</p><p>Another grunt, this one more quizzical.</p><p>“-but if you have the time, would...would you be willing to come back, in maybe a week? So I know you're ok? I'll make you dinner again, what's your favorite?”</p><p>A third grunt, this one long and drawn out.</p><p>“I mean, if it's too much trouble-”</p><p>“for stars sake, i will if you shut up, fucking hell!” he snapped.</p><p>You smiled in the dark.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As you suspected, the morning dawned with a messy floor, all the covers missing off your bed, and no skeleton. You were still a little disappointed, but made a mental note to get more spaghetti after work. Just in case.</p><p>That evening you returned with fresh groceries to find a new matching couch and coffee table, considerably more expensive than your damaged and mismatched IKEA set, sitting in your living room with neither of the damaged furniture items in sight. Behind the couch was a plush black and ivory rug, neatly covering the marrow stains on your carpet., and on the coffee table, a single sticky note.</p><p>'ketchup'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the fake out! In my defense, there was, in fact, only one bed.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Curious Case of the Quantum Couch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alternate title: Our Reader Needs to Pay More Attention</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's not that you were ungrateful for the new couch. In fact, you hadn't actually expected the sulky skeleton to actually replace anything, and it was almost unreasonably nice. Soft and thick-cushioned and ridiculously comfortable to just lay there and watch TV.</p><p>It was just...well, you kept <em>finding</em> things. Weird things. It started when you dropped your phone and it slid under the coffee table, only for you to turn your head just so when reaching to grab to find a knife the size of your face <em>duct taped to the bottom of the table</em>. You left it there. Once, you plopped down only to have three identical blue jackets erupt from the cushion space in the middle like a party popper. You washed them and hung them in your hall closet. Maybe you would wear one when the weather got colder. After that you got curious, and ended up finding one of the pillows stuffed with poptatos. Not the chips. Whole ass poptatos wedged into a hole dug in the fluff and the pillow zipped closed.</p><p>After a crash-landing, murder-prone, somehow-bleeding skeleton visiting not one, but twice, a weird stuff-spawning couch was really easy to handle. You just...pretended it was normal. It was alarmingly easy, and you'd just ask Dust about it when he came back. If he came back. He probably would. You just had to wait.</p><p>While you waited, you...well, you went to work and tried to figure out how to make ketchup, mostly. You considered just buying a range from the store, but you had offered to <em>make</em> something, and ketchup wasn't all that hard. It just smelled. A lot. At least vinegar and tomatoes were generally cheap. You had also stocked up on things that go with ketchup. You hoped Dust liked tater-tots.</p><p>The weirdness about your new couch aside (and honestly, what had you expected from such a weird guy?), the week was crawling along. You just wanted to make sure Dust was ok. Assuming he actually came back. You figured the odds were 50/50. Maybe.</p><p>You weren't friends, exactly, but you liked him well enough when he wasn't feeling stabby. Which might actually be all the time, now that he's on the mend? Ah, you may have made a mistake then. You refused to feel bad about helping someone though. So 'round and 'round your thoughts went as you counted down the days, sometimes hopefully, sometimes with trepidation.</p><p> </p><p>By the seventh day after the Couch Incident, and the morning in which Dust was supposed to return, you couldn't blame yourself for being a little absent minded. Though you hadn't expected to have your head so far in the clouds that you missed every single sign of the city gearing up for one of the many annual events it hosted through out the year. Which is why, when a coworker had swung by to talk about it and gossip about 'who's taking whom', your response was a wide-eyed “Huh?”</p><p>It took an embarrassingly amount of back-and-forth and date checking, but you had, in fact, managed to miss every single sign of the upcoming All Souls Fest. Not that you had ever gone after graduating high school.</p><p>Still, the decorations were nice, you thought to yourself as you drove home. Colorful streamers looped over the downtown streetlamps, the lanterns already lit with glittering white light and casting monster soul shaped shadows across the sidewalks. Soon the area would be full of vendors and games and small rides. Picturesque, the stuff of touristy postcards and travel magazines.</p><p>You'll go again some day. Not today though. Today you were expecting a visitor.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“why is the city glowing?”</p><p>You choked on a gasp. You had expected him over, but not to already be there when you opened the door!</p><p>“Fuck, don't scare me like that!” you wheezed, kicking your shoes off at the door.</p><p>“should i scare you some other way then?” Dust flashed you a smile that was half threatening, half amused. Or maybe it was mostly amused, and he just looked threatening all the time?</p><p>“You know exactly what I meant, you bony bastard. Now, what about the city being on fire?” You padded over to stand next to him in front of the window.</p><p>“not on fire. just very pink.”</p><p>He was right. You were only a few miles from the center of the city, and from here, the lights of the festival melded into a light pink haze of light that blanketed the area.</p><p>“Oh, that's opening of the yearly All Souls festival.” Dust looked at you blankly, so you hurried to explain, “It's mostly just a fun reason to have a party and run around with friends or like, loved ones, if you had one. It started out a long time ago as a way for people to find their soul-mates, and sometimes that still happens, since it's such a large gathering of people.”</p><p>“oh great, one of <em>those</em> universes,” Dust flung an hand over his sockets in disgust, “<em>soul mate universes.</em>”</p><p>“Hey! It's not <em>so</em> bad. My parents are soulmates.” you defended, flushing.</p><p>“what about you, huh? still pining for your one-and-only?” he peeked through his fingers at you.</p><p>“Nope.” You popped the 'p' of your response, “I'm all good here, thanks.”</p><p>Dust looked surprised, just for a split second, eyeing you for a moment before his eyelights hardened,“you know i'm not your soul mate, right? It's weird that we met, but you're hardly protagonist material, even in this shitty universe-”</p><p>“Wha- dude, <em>you don't even go here</em>! Sit your boney behind down on my very, very nice couch by the way, thank you, and pull your shoulders down from around your ear...holes.” You waved your hands, shooing him away from the window.</p><p>“You have to reach a certain threshold of magic for your soul to resonate with anyone elses,” you explained, “I don't make the cut. Which is fine, I guess. I'll make my family the old fashioned way.”</p><p>“....fucking?” Dust grinned, sitting back down as the tension slowly uncoiled from around his spine.</p><p>“Oh my god, NO!” you stomped past him into the kitchen, “You are the worst, why are you even here?”</p><p>Dust blinked (how???) at you slowly. “you wanted me here.”</p><p>You paused, shifting the bags of frozen foods in your arms uncomfortably, “I just wasn't expecting you so early? And I'm used to living alone. I, well, I really was looking forward to seeing you again. I'm glad you came back.”</p><p>Dust shrugged, “had to go when the getting' was good. can't have the rest of the boys getting curious and following me, but they're easier to lose right after we get back from a job.”</p><p>“Oh, the other Sanses? Sansii?”</p><p>Dust nodded, kicking his feet up on the couch, “don't feel like sharing you just yet. or at all. depends on if you got ketchup or not.”</p><p>“Bitch, I <em>made</em> you ketchup,” you scoffed, layering two baking pans with tater tots, fries, and your personal favorite, dinosaur chicken nuggets, “but you get nothing until I know you're doing better.”</p><p>“be gentle with me, then.” He shrugged off his coat and lifted his shirt.</p><p>Cracks still littered his ribs, but at least he had ribs, though some were surely going to scar based off the divots and ridges still present. Red magic flickered through the cracks like rolling magma, but it wasn't hot to the touch and didn't seem to vibrate under your fingers the way it did when the wounds were raw and new.</p><p>“getting a little handsy there, friend.”</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em> “Oh shit! I'm so sorry!” you jerked your hands back like his bones were suddenly a brand, “I didn't even <em>think</em>, stars!” You didn't really remember deciding to walk over and get grabby with him either, you just wanted to make sure it was improving, or at least not worse, what with his two previous visits colored by spilled marrow and magic.</p><p>“you've seen it before,” Dust dropped his shirt and slumped casually back against the couch.</p><p>“Mmhmm,” you mumbled skeptically, scurrying back to the kitchen to shove the trays of food into the oven, “I wish you had spoken up before then.”</p><p>Dust made a noncommittal noise. You frowned.</p><p>“You're very different when you aren't actively dying in my living room.”</p><p>Your guest hitched up his fake grin, “just tired. like i said, had a job today. used a bunch of magic, picked up some...well, it was an experience, let's just say that.”</p><p>“Yeah, ok, I'll buy that,” you acquiesced, pulling two jars of ketchup out of your fridge. These had turned out the best, so you stuck a spoon in each so no one had to worry about double dipping, and started setting up the coffee table.</p><p>Which is when you learned that Dust was a literal monster who would, in fact, drink a jar of ketchup straight.</p><p>“Oh my god, you fucking gremlin!” you weren't sure if you were horrified or impressed.</p><p>Dust smiled properly, swirling the contents of the jar like one would wine in a glass. Well, he tried, it was a little thick. “full bodied, a little on the sweet side, maybe less brown sugar next time?”</p><p>“Next time?! Like I'll make you any more! You can't just drink it like that, oh my god.”</p><p>“i certainly can. you worked hard on this, i guess. it would be rude to dilute the flavor by mixing it with actual food”</p><p>“You guess?”</p><p>“it's edible, but my standards are very low.”</p><p>Your bickering continued as he continued trying to drink the ketchup and you wailed about how gross it was until the ding of the oven timer startled you both.</p><p>“Oh good, real food,” you scrambled up. Paused. Grabbed the second jar to take with you. Dust had threatened to drink the second jar, and you wanted to save some for yourself at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Ta-da! Made with love to you from me!” you said proudly, plonking the tray of grease and potato (and chicken) down onto the coffee table. Dust stared at you blankly.</p><p>What was...oh. OH! Well this was embarrassing.</p><p>You had forgotten that monsters, when they first emerged, only knew how to speak with Monster's Intent. Every spoken word had Intent layered into it, so while monsters could understand the basics of anything a human spoke to them, a lot of nuance was lost with the casual spoken word. In return, monsters, who spoke to the Soul and not to someone's ears, could be understood by anyone who cared to listen, though if you weren't a mage, nuance was again lost. Over the years monsters learned how to speak whatever language they chose to learn, assuming they had a mouth to speak with, and humans who cared to learn were taught how to pick out the meaning behind words with purposeful Intent in them.</p><p>You had learned the basics, but perhaps you were a little rusty. Plus Dust may not have spent time with humans from his universe, or any of the others he's visited, so the confusion was understandable, especially if he was as tired as he claimed. What all had you missed when talking to him because you weren't Listening properly?</p><p>“Let me try again,” you offered, “Uhm, here, I made this with <em>care/affection/warmth</em>, NOT <em>spite/violence/ill-will.</em>”</p><p>“ah.” the skeleton's expression cleared.</p><p>“Right! So...osteoporosis!”</p><p>Aaaand you lost him again.</p><p>“You know, uh.... bone atrophy?”</p><p>Dust seemed startled by his own bark of laughter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aww, they're bonding. FINALLY. Everything is fine. Story's almost over, nothing more can go wrong. As long as you don't check the tags.<br/>Drop me a line, let me know what you think, or where you think this is going. I really enjoy some of the things you guys notice.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. It's a Mood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Being friends with Dust is weird. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's easy. You're not sure what he thinks about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>It had taken several more visits, but as they shifted to 'randomly dropping in at some point in the week' to a more predictable 'on Friday's we have dinner and watch fail compliations' pattern, you think you had finally figured out how to read your enigmatic skeleton friend. At least to the point where you could tell what kind of visit you were about to have.</p><p> </p><p>You looked forward to the Good Days the most.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Even if it wasn't a Friday, you could tell it was a good day when he bothered to text you before you texted him that day. It had taken some saving, but you had finally gotten an Alphone, and after Dust took it to some sort of Science Sans, it was able to text across the multiverse so you could bother your friend where ever he may be. You were kind of surprised he even had a phone, much less checked things like texts, but he admitted he liked the inventory space. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He even deigned to show you how to use the strange pocket space available on your own phone, pulling a (strangely still warm) hot dog out of his own by miming pulling it out of his ass. The 'dog wasn't bad, but didn't really taste much like meat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You texted him once, maybe twice a day, sometimes about work, sometimes about memes. Mostly about memes. His return texts were usually perfunctory, a picture of something interesting he found in his travel without context or an emoji of whatever he wanted for dinner. Once he had sent you a picture of a trash cash on fire, claiming it reminded him of you.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>it's fucking cold.”</em></p><p>
  <em>You scowled at him, “Well, hello to you too.” You took your time taking the chicken out of the oven, relishing the warmth provided by the oven, however temporary, “The heater shat the bed this morning and maintenance hasn't gotten to it yet.”</em>
</p><p>“<em>is that why you're dressed for nuclear winter?”</em></p><p>“<em>It's called a sweater, Dust, some of us don't wear the same thing every day.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust frowned, glancing out the window “it's below freezing here.”</em>
</p><p>“<em>Yes, thank you.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Somehow the skeleton had convinced you to gather up your meager set of tools and frog marched you outside for you to point out your heater. Dinner was late and had to be reheated, but the warm air blowing through the vents by the time the two of you got back upstairs was worth it. And honestly? You had never seen Dust look as pleased with himself.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em><br/>PPPPppppffffrt~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You had gotten used to the noise, but Dust looked at your couch in alarm.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Wait for it,” you advised.</em></p><p>
  <em>With a rumble, the cushions shifted and from the depths came four blue jackets, and one blue coat with white fur trim.</em>
</p><p>“<em>you're fucking kidding me.”</em></p><p>“<em>YOU brought me this couch. It does this every few days, it's kind of sad that I've gotten used to it.” You pushed the pillows back in place and sorted through the jackets, “Oh finally, this one is in my size!” You shook your find out and slipped it on, “Now we match!”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust looked like you had just swung a brick in his face. You rolled your eyes, “Right, about this couch, I have a few questions...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You did not get many answers, but the poptatos made him laugh until he almost cried, which was good enough.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dust also had his bad days.<br/><em>He was already in your living room when you got home, and even thought he must have been expecting you, he still jumped when you opened the door, a bright red bone attack fizzling out in his hand as he realized it was you. His magic burned and crackled in the air, invisible but still filling the small space as you moved carefully through it, every move measured and deliberate. You hadn't been stabbed yet, and you weren't looking to start a new trend. </em></p><p>
  <em>He didn't stay long after dinner, though he had eaten painfully slow, the red of his eyelights dulling as he ate. He took his ketchup to go.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ow, fuck!” Magic, raw and red, snapped across your hand, your knife clattering to the floor. “I'm not feeding you raw chicken, let me check it you ass!”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dusts upper jaw curled into a sneer, “maybe if you were a better cook we wouldn't have to worry about it.”</em>
</p><p>“<em>I don't have to cook you anything you know, if you hate my food so much why even come over?”</em></p><p>“<em>i'm not a fucking cat or a charity case, and your taste in companionship is shitty.”</em></p><p>“<em>That is a complete non-sequitur and completely ignores what I just said!” You whirled away from the stove and took a step towards your living room where Dust stood suddenly, one eye flaring red as the other winked out. With a flick of his wrist, red bones, cracked with cyan, erupted through the floor, spiking out and barricading you in the kitchen.</em></p><p>“<em>know your place, human.” he replied warningly, his smile wide and sharp. The angry heat in his voice was a startling contrast from the ice in his gaze.</em></p><p>“<em>This is MY FUCKING HOUSE!” You screamed, sparing only a fleeting thought for your neighbors, “You can't just-” You leaned backwards as the bones jutted towards you again, “What...what the fuck is wrong with you?” You flinched, backing up as more bone slowly pushed up through the floor, “Dusty...you promised.” Your words cracked midway, and the rest came out as a whisper, “You're scaring me.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust's smile dropped. You didn't think he was really seeing you anymore, but at least the bones had stopped.</em>
</p><p>“<em>If...if this is...get out. Get out and don't come back if this is how you're going to be.”</em></p><p>
  <em>His eyesockets widened.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The bones disintegrated.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And when you looked up from the flash of magic cracking into nothingness, Dust was gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(You didn't see him again for a month and a half. When he came back, he was in and out before you even noticed, leaving behind a plate of food labeled 'Spacecats', glittery hotdogs with cat ears and a sugar-shell 'astronaut helmet')</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>-</em>
  <em>--</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then...he had his really bad days.<em><br/>He was curled up at the end of your couch, the red ring of in his socket threatening to smother the cyan, while his other eyelight was snuffed out. His hood was tugged up over his head, and he didn't even flinch when you walked out of the bathroom to find him sitting there. He was late by almost three hours, but you had saved him some leftovers. As you plated his share, you could hear him muttering to himself, occasionally making an aborted but violent gesture with which ever hand wasn't gripping the front of his coat or jammed into his pocket. Sometimes he laughs, a high, distressed noise that sounded wrenched out of his soul and always ended abruptly in a wet noise akin to a sob.</em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Then there were days that you just called his Tired Days. Usually off schedule, you would find him somewhere in your apartment, splayed out and not quite asleep, but close. Sockets shut or gazing vacantly into space, the shadows below seeming almost gouged into the bone. He gravitated towards easy access blankets, usually dragging them off your bed to make a nest on the floor or sofa, though he seemed to have an odd fondness for a tangled mess that was your first, and only, attempt at knitting a blanket, as no matter where you put it away, you found it in the pile every time.</p><p> </p><p>His first Tired Day came after your first big fight. After the Spacecat drop-off, he had stayed away for two more weeks, arriving late one Tuesday, his presence waking you up more than any noise as he shuffled listlessly into your room. While he didn't respond to your voice, he let you bundle him up in a blanket and set him up on the couch in the coziest nest you could manage half-asleep and in the dark.</p><p>It wasn't really how you had wanted this to go, as resistant as Dust generally was to talking about Big Things, you had picked up a book about LV Spikes, and you were <em>pretty sure</em> that's what happened but you didn't know and even if it<em> wasn't</em> it was completely unacceptable and you weren't <em>angry </em>anymore, just <em>hurt</em>, and ok a <em>little</em> angry but. But. <em>BUT</em>.</p><p>He just stood there. Quiet. Hollow. If it weren't dark, you probably wouldn't have been able to see his eyelights at all.</p><p>“We need to talk,” you had said. He nodded.</p><p>“It's very late,” you continued. He nodded.</p><p>“I don't know if I can trust you,” you said, even though you were already flipping on lights and dragging out your sleeping bag. He was still.</p><p>“Will I be safe with you tonight?” you asked, as if you were showing him the door instead of arranging a bedspace for him. He was still.</p><p>His eyelights dim.</p><p>Until.</p><p>They guttered.</p><p>Brightened.</p><p>A weak, pale blue. A thin rim of washed out red.</p><p>He nodded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dust needs a nap, and a therapist.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I ended up catching the plague that's been circling around, so I didn't get this out as fast as I wanted. I'm all good now though, so let's get rolling!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“YOU'RE GOING SOFT.”</p><p>“ 'm bone, can't be.”</p><p>Papyrus huffed as Dust leaned back against the couch.</p><p>“YOU CARE FAR TOO MUCH. IN FACT, YOU CARE AT ALL, WHICH IS STUPID.”</p><p>Dust's smile dipped. He didn't care. Well, only because you were late. He was usually late for your dinners, and he was again this time. But you were also late. Because you weren't home. Which was unusual, in that it had never happened before. So he didn't care, exactly. Just bothered. Years of resets and LV stacked on LV screamed at him that 'different' probably meant 'wrong'.</p><p>“SHE MAKES YOU WEAK.”</p><p>“lv is the same as always,” the skeleton grunted in return, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as he sunk into the couch. This was his favorite couch, soft in all the right places, and with excellent lumbar support. Which, he supposes, is why he brought it here. This way he didn't have to share. Well, except with the human, “can't lose any of that, no matter my company.”</p><p>“I'M ONLY LOOKING OUT FOR YOUR BEST INTERESTS,” his brother reminded, settling on the back of the couch. If he had a body, he would be leaned down, braced against the back and leaning over in his admonishment, but as it was, his skull rested on his disembodied hands.</p><p>Dust frowned properly this time, “ 's a vacation home, complete with a maid-slash-chef.”</p><p>“IS THAT WHAT YOU REALLY THINK, OR WHAT YOU WANT TO BE REALLY THINKING?”</p><p>“you've always been able to see right through me, bro, but-.” Dust replied easily.</p><p>His brother took the bait, slapping the couch in his predictable annoyance “DON'T YOU DARE MAKE A SKELETON JOKE!”</p><p>Crisis averted, Dust supposed. Well, one of them. While his brother extolled the virtues of both murder and higher-class wordplay, he checked the clock hanging in your kitchen. You had never changed it from daylight savings time, whatever and whenever that was, but it gave him the rough idea that you were over an hour late.</p><p>He almost considered actually calling your cell phone to find out where you were when the front door finally made it's customary unlocking noises that announced your arrival. Tension he didn't know he was carrying dropped out of his bones as he heard you dropping your purse, shoving things around in the hall closet, whatever it was you did over there. It was almost painful when all that tension snapped back into coiled rigidity as you shuffled into view.</p><p>“what the fuck?”</p><p>You looked back at him, a furrow in your brow pinched with confusion, and probably pain. “What's- oh, right.” You exhaled slowly and hobbled over to the couch. Dust scooted himself out of the way as you sat down heavily, bringing your foot, and the weird ass thing on it, up to sit on the coffee table, “Took a tumble at work, right down some stairs. Rolled my ankle and sprained it, plus broke a few foot bones,” you jerked your thumb at the crutches you had leant against the couches' arm, “So I get to wobble around in a corrective boot and slam into things with my giant metal sticks over there.”</p><p>Dust fought the full-body sympathy cringe as you spoke about your fall. Broken bones were not unusual in his life, but that didn't mean he ever got used to them. As a monster made entirely of bones, the idea was probably always going to be particularly horrifying, though he can't recall a time when anyone managed to break an actual foot.</p><p>“it will heal, right?” he asked finally, leaning forward to inspect the thick black boot that encased your foot, “you're covered in fat and meat, will that get in the way?”</p><p>You sighed, “Honestly, I'm really lucky, the bones are broken but they haven't moved anywhere, so they didn't need to pin anything or put plates in,” this time Dust let himself twitch, “so as long as I don't shove my foot under a bus wheel or start kicking bricks, I should be shaped up in five weeks, maybe eight at the most.”</p><p>Dust looked you over. Your face was pinched with pain lines, and the shadows under your eyes made you look bruised. Even as you let yourself sink into the cushions, a tense line ran through your body, pulled taught like a string. “this happened recently. today?”</p><p>“Around lunch,” you confirmed, “It's been...” you floundered for a moment, “<em>a day/a struggle/a pain</em>.”</p><p>Dust tapped the toe of a sneaker against the floor as he made up his mind. He wasn't the go-to in his group for things like 'care taking' or 'caring' in general, but...</p><p>“OH THIS IS GOING TO BE <em>HILARIOUS</em>.”</p><p>“hush, pap,” his ire had him tossing a throw pillow a little harder than he intended, chuckling as it smacked you in the face with a poff! as he stood. “i'll handle dinner, you invalid, take a nap,” he said over your squawk, blipping over to your purse to fish out your phone, grabbing a plastic bag with paperwork and pills next to it as he strolled into the kitchen like he owned it. Your care instructions were simple enough he thought, scanning the discharge papers. If broken human bones were like skeleton brakes, then you were in for a rough ride, at least for the first few days. (<em>It wasn't that Dust had never seen a human with broken bones before, he's seen plenty, and was usually the cause, they just never stayed alive enough to heal any of them.</em>)</p><p>You must have not been kidding about it being 'a day', you had snarked back or even questioned his cooking abilities as you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, air hissing out of you like steam.</p><p>“YOU COULD PUT THEM OUT OF THEIR MISERY AND NOT BOTHER WITH ANY OF THIS, YOU KNOW,” his brother suggested, but floated out of the way as Dust shooed him out of the way of the 'menu drawer'. Dust couldn't deny the thought had crossed his mind, but...well. Actually.</p><p>“not a bad idea, bro.”</p><p>Papyruses eyes lit up, an unnatural red glow they had never been in life,”OH, OH FINALLY SANS! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! WAIT, NO, LET ME GET OVER THERE, I WANT TO WATCH, I-SANS? SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”</p><p>The paper bag in Dusts' hands ripped open easily, his eyelights skimming the instructions before rattling out a white, oblong pill as he brought a stack of menus back to the couch. Hey, he never said he was going to cook, just that he was going to handle dinner.</p><p>“YOU- SANS, <em>YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS</em>!” Papyrus was aghast, “YOU CAN'T TAKE CARE OF A <em>ROCK</em>! YOU DON'T <em>NEED</em> A PET!”</p><p>Dust didn't want a pet, though he was sure you would be much more interesting than Rocky. No, he wanted the creased lines of pain to disappear from your expression, and for that ram-rod set to your shoulders to drop. He could see your hurt. Your pain.</p><p>And.</p><p>He didn't...</p><p>like it.</p><p>He wanted it to go away. He could make it go away, but he had, for the first time in forever, options. He found the idea of you, gone, unpleasant. You would be a part of him, in his exp, and perhaps he was spoiled by your intent-heady presence, but he held a different answer in his hands. It was an odd feeling. He didn't say anything about that though.</p><p>“can you eat these on an empty stomach?” he said instead, nudging his outstretched hand against your head.</p><p>“I dunno, lets find out,” you swiped the pill and swallowed it dry, though not without a grimace, “Uck, no, bad idea.”</p><p>Dust grinned wryly, going to get a glass of water as he flicked open the delivery app on your phone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this chapter and the next kind of happened on its' own, I didn't see it coming, but here it is. It just sort of dropped out of my brain fully formed and making demands of my time. Hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Role Reversal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second part of the broken-foot mini-arc I didn't know was going to happen.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Whazzat?” You blurted into the dimness of your bedroom. Your dream was already getting lost to the fuzz in your brain. Something about a castle...and a bucket of kittens? No, that wasn't right...</p><p>Your mouth felt sticky, and tasted vaguely of teriyaki, but also vaguely of ass. On the bright side, your pain has been squashed into a dull throb, and at some point your foot had gotten several pillows shoved underneath it.</p><p>So, this was either Dusts' doing, or you managed to get here yourself. “Here” being...You squinted in the dark, the familiar shapes of your dresser and clothes piles swimming into focus. Ah your room then.You had the vague memory of worming into a pair of sweatpants and ending up facedown on the ground, so you really hoped you managed yourself.</p><p>“no such luck.”</p><p>You startled and leaned over, looking down. Dust had created, for lack of a better word, a small hovel on the floor of your bedroom, consisting of your sleeping bag, every single blanket from your closet, and the ugliest, lumpiest pillow you owned. Gross.</p><p>“hey, words hurt, human.”</p><p>Aw man, were you talking out loud?</p><p>“yup. pain meds really fuck you up, huh?”</p><p>You sighed, letting yourself drop back down into the bed, “I dunno, first time I've broken anything...Did you really have to help me put on pants?”</p><p>Dust grinned, “Only after I had to help you get out of the shower. Nice ass, by the way.”</p><p>Your '<em>nooooo</em>' squealed out of you like a leaky balloon as Dust cackled, “you were so insistent that you get cleaned up, you pitched yourself in there clothes and all.”</p><p>“<em>Oh my god-</em>”</p><p>“then you got mad at me for coming into the bathroom, threw what you could take off at me, then got mad that i was in the bathroom while you were naked.”</p><p>“Please stop talking,”</p><p>“you didn't really do anything, just stood there in the wet shouting at me until i could talk you out.”</p><p>“<em>Please</em> stop talking!”</p><p>“then you tried to put on pants...”</p><p>“I will break my other foot up your pelvis, oh my god.”</p><p>“well, maybe it wasn't that bad,” Dust winked, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, “but I' like my version better.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>You had been out cold when the food had arrived, the pain and hurt rolling off your soul muted and dull, smothered by a layer of <em>numb/tired/distant</em> brought on by the medication. Heh. Dust could relate.</p><p>He was also used to waking up lazy-bones who got violent when yanked back to consciousness, so with care to stand out of immediate punching range (that panicked shove to his broken ribcage lingered unpleasantly in his memory) he pressed a warm takeout box to your cheek.</p><p>You grumbled, but your eyes fluttered open as you shifted to look at the offending box. It took a moment, your brain clearly clicking along against the medication's smothering effects, but you lit up upon recognizing the box from the Chinese food place down the block.</p><p>He rolled his eye lights as you made grabby hands at it, wriggling to sit up straighter. “My hero,”</p><p>you crooned blearily as he handed you the box.</p><p>“don't be too grateful, i used your credit card.” Dust plopped down next to you, letting his freshly acquired spoils spill out across the coffee table like a decadent feast. Only with more packaging and fried rice.</p><p>“Good thing I wasn't talking to you,” you said, matter-of-fact as you popped open the top of your takeout and inhaled deeply.</p><p>You fumbled with the chopsticks. Badly. So badly that after losing the third piece of chicken to the floor, Dust had forced a fork into your hand. Even then, you didn't eat much, citing a side effect of the medication and pain.</p><p>While he finished off the remainder, you dozed, half watching the schlock your kind called television in this universe until you finally turned and nudged him gently with your elbow.</p><p>“Hey. I have a really big favor to ask of you.”</p><p> </p><p>The parallels were not lost on him as he filled up the tub in your bathroom. You were as awake as you were going to get all drugged up apparently, and had requested his assistance in getting the 'hospital smell' off of you. Just to get in and out, since you would be without the foot wrap and the boot and your balance was unsteady. At least, that's what you had said, but the second you sat down on the toilet lid you had started shucking off clothes. Boot, wrap, pants, shirt and-well Dust wouldn't know what else. He wasn't looking. He wasn't. He was filling the tub. Not looking at some half naked human.</p><p>Which is probably how he missed you wobbling in with a sock still on. Eh, he'd take it off you when you got out (“SCANDALOUS, BROTHER, SIMPLY SCANDALOUS”).</p><p> </p><p>With the shower curtain pulled to give you a flimsy modicum of privacy, Dust listened as you half-heartedly splashed around. His nasal aperture wrinkled as various artificial chemical smells accompanied clicks and pops of bottles. It was all vaguely floral, but succeeded in covering the smell of antiseptic and generic 'illness' that clung to you from your hospital visit.</p><p> </p><p>Dust had never seen you drink, but he imagined you must be an unusually capable drunk, given how you had wrangled yourself out of the tub and back into your foot wrap with minimal assistance, only needing to grab him once for balance with...minimal fumbling of his person. You were practically asleep again by the time you wobbled to bed, leaving him to his own devices as you mumbled your thanks and promptly crashed out.</p><p>Which meant he should probably go. Away. Somewhere.</p><p>You'd be fine, stupid was pretty hard to kill, even on accident.</p><p>“Hey.” Your arm swung out, pinkie and ring fingers catching on the sleeve of his jacket.</p><p>Guess you weren't as out as he thought. “go to sleep, idiot.”</p><p>Your smile was crooked as you huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. I just...y'know. <em>Thanks</em>.” You squeezed and wiggled your hand, his metacarpals clicking against your skin.</p><p>He nodded once, watching your focus go fuzzy and your grip go slack, allowing him to return your arm.</p><p>Only when he was sure you were out of it once more did he let himself exhale slowly, his bones almost rattling from the intent you had unwittingly shoved into him. Gratitude. Warmth. Something soft.</p><p>He needed to leave.</p><p>He waited.</p><p>Papyrus was quiet.</p><p>Dust sighed and turned towards your closet.</p><p>Unbelievable.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, maybe I can get this plot back on track now that this detour is mostly wrapped up. While I didn't intend for this and the last chapter to happen, I feel like it slotted in fairly well. Sometimes things just demand to happen, who am I to say no?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Geoduck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You try something new, with surprising results.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had gotten pretty used to walking around with cane. Honestly, you didn't really need it much anymore aside from going up and down stairs, but you did enjoy prodding others with the end, your favorite victim being the perpetually grumpy skeleton that...apparently just lived with you now. Sort of.</p><p>Ever since you had broken your foot, Dust just lingered around. Even after you graduated from crutches to your cane (you bought one with a skull handle, <em>obviously</em>), he had taken to dropping by far more often than the usual once-a-week visits.</p><p>He was rarely there in the morning, but when he was he had the look of someone who hadn't slept all night, and your kitchen had enough used coffee mugs to support the notion. On the bright side, he had started replacing the coffee when it ran out with weirder and weirder monster versions of coffee. This week's bean was a strong, dark roast that not only woke you up, but had you literally breathing steam for up to five minutes after drinking, a marked improvement from last weeks, which brewed to a dark purple-pink and glittered in the cup, but made you jittery and restless and tasted faintly of ozone.</p><p>Sometimes there was evidence he had been by during the day while you were at work, usually evidenced by errant blanket piles, missing food, and the odd ketchup-stained napkins piled...well, close-ish to your trash can. You wondered if nesting was a 'Dust' thing, a 'Sans' thing, or a 'monster' thing, but you weren't sure how to ask without sounding specist or possibly multiversist. Regardless, you made a note to get him something embarrassingly fluffy for Christmas. Or Gyftmas. Or his birthday. Whichever came first.</p><p>If Dust wasn't there when you got home from work, you had learned the hard way to stay off <em>that </em>side of the couch. Apparent teleportation abilities aside, inter-dimensional travel was beyond him without using a rift like the one still above your couch somewhere, which meant sitting in the wrong place meant he had dropped out directly on top of you and your dinner more than once, resulting in a tangle of limbs, bone, and, in one notable instance, scalding hot soup that ended up in and on everything. Dust had spent several minutes running cold water into his eye sockets after that one. You didn't know a skeleton could shriek like that. You weren't sure <em>you </em>could shriek like that.</p><p> </p><p>Small instances like that aside, the two of your settled into...well, you couldn't really call it a routine, since Dust never stuck to a specific schedule, Friday evenings aside, but a form of comfortable co-habitation where you lived your life and Dust was just there sometimes.</p><p>“Hey Salty-Skull,” you greeted, exiting the bathroom. Dust hadn't been there when you went in, but sometime between shampoo and conditioner you had heard the strange un-sound of a 'shortcut', followed by vague couch noises.</p><p>He mumbled something unintelligible at something over his shoulder, one hand tugging his hood over his eyes further. Oh. <em>Oh</em>. It was one of those visits. He hadn't had a night like this in a while. Four months, maybe?</p><p>Fortunately, you had a plan this time. Unfortunately, it was completely untested and might end with a bone or two in your wall. You had gotten pretty good at dodging, so you really hoped it was going to be your wall.</p><p>It was tedious, gathering everything you needed while going slow enough so that Dust's 'stab first, ask later' impulse wasn't triggered, but finally everything was in a pile in the middle of your living room.</p><p>“I'm making a fort,” you announced, dragging the final pieces (upside down bar stools) to the sides of the coffee table, “I can build it around you, or you can help.” You were met with blank sockets, eerily wide. “Creepy! You just sit there then.”</p><p>It was a lot easier when you were younger, or maybe you had to do less because you were smaller, but there was a lot more bending and reaching and balancing and...huff, maybe you were a little out of shape and fuck, your foot hurt, and, well, if the floor lamps weren't on, it wasn't technically a fire hazard to have blankets over them, right? Your coat rack made for a great 'ceiling' pole, but you were just a little too short without jumping and-</p><p>“YEEP!” You snapped down on reflex, looking wildly for the offending ...stick?</p><p>Dust gripped the bottom end of your cane, having clearly just jabbed the metal grip directly into your ribs. Small and dim, his mismatched eyelights peeked out from under his hood,the side of his mouth twitched in an almost grin as he muttered into space again, but all you caught was “...break her leg and her neck this time...” before retreating in on himself again, his eyes flattening and going dark.</p><p>“I'm going to pretend you handed that to me politely,” you accepted the cane, hooking the sheet over the top and flicking it on top of the coat rack.</p><p>Dust remained, for lack of a better term, inert for the rest of your small construction project, either content with or oblivious to the hybrid fort/nest you were constructing around him.</p><p>“Ta-daa,” you tucked yourself in to your 'side' of the couch-turned-fort with a single jazz hand as you cracked open your laptop with the other, “I'm about three seasons behind Hells Kitchen, hope you don't mind if we catch up?” You didn't expect a reply, and didn't get one, but you nudged a blanket against his side gently. You were going for casual, but it was a little too deliberate as you flicked open your comforter, salvaged from the bed, and just happening to catch the skeleton's lap under it as well as your own. Not that Dust was up for judging you at the moment. He had stopped mumbling though, and hadn't broken out into spine-chilling cackles yet, so you were counting it as a win. Carefully, you curled into your share of the comforter.</p><p> </p><p>Seven episodes in, and you weren't sure if you had dreamed the part where contestants had to tear apart sand castles for some kind of dick-fish, but you certainly weren't awake enough to say it <em>didn't</em> happen. You struggled against the muzzy confusion of warmth and Angry Shouting Chefs to see what had caught your attention. There wasn't a sudden volume increase, you weren't overheated, or cold, though at some point you had tipped sideways, but everything was pleasant enough, the weight of the blankets coaxing your brain back down into sleep...wait. Weight? Oh. No <em>way.</em></p><p>You shifted to look, but it must have been enough to rouse Dust, or maybe he wasn't asleep in the first place, and a boney hand pushed itself into your face, pushing it back towards the screen (yup, those were dick-fish).</p><p>“not a word.” his words were thick with exhaustion, and when you let yourself be guided away from looking, his hand dropped away, gripping at the blankets somewhere around your (and his??) middle. He wasn't exactly on top of you, more tucked against you and the back of the couch, but still kind of on you, trapping the two of you in a burrito of blankets and emotional constipation where he just...nuzzled down while pretending he wasn't, and you pretended not to be there as you both watched risotto fly across a kitchen.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Geoduck? Geoduck.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Chapter Where It Finally Happens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You and Dust have a lazy morning in. Dust makes some Important Choices. You do some laundry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Everybody buckle up, it's Feelings time. I suspect you will have many of them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had never taken 'The Walk of Shame', but you wondered idly if this was sort of how it felt. Despite not wearing the clothes from the 'night before' and already being at your home, and...not actually walking at all, you imagined the awkward feeling of displacement was similar. Do you say anything? Offer to make breakfast? Flee into the bathroom and never come out?</p><p>You knew Dust was awake. You felt it, the minute he woke up and realized where he was and where, <em>exactly</em>, he was. At some point during the night he had shuffle-rolled out of his jacket, losing the usual 'padding' between his bones and the rest of the world and leaving his bare arms snaking under and through the covers, close enough you could feel the heat radiating off him. Somehow your arm had slung over his torso without him waking up, and you could feel the tension snap back into place, the magic humming in his spine turning into a hard crackle through his shirt under your fingers as he became unnaturally still against you.</p><p>So maybe not a 'walk of shame' but a...'sleep of shame'? You sighed. No, that wasn't right either.</p><p>“i know you're awake.”</p><p>The morning light was hazy, blurred and diffused through the sheets used for your fort but you squinted at him anyways, “G'mornin' to you too. Are we still pretending things aren't happening?”</p><p>He ducked down, avoiding your gaze as a peculiar red-purple light dusted over his cheekbones, “too early.”</p><p>“Mmf,” you agreed, and let your head drop back down, “I don't have work today, we could have a lie-in.”</p><p>“that means more sleep, right?” the one eye you could see, red-rimmed cyan, was firmly affixed to the immediate right of your head, refusing eye contact.</p><p>“If you want. Or we just lay here and watch trash tv.” you waved your free hand at your laptop. At some point in the night it had gotten tired of waiting for you to hit the 'are you still watching' button and went to sleep, so you were both going to be completely lost on the plot when you started it up again. Eh, you'd figure it out.</p><p>“both,” Dust decided, kicking out a socked-foot to bat at the touchpad. You were kind of impressed, and told him so, when he managed to not only wake up the screen but also hit enter so it would start playing by just...kicking at it.</p><p>He hushed you sternly as he folded himself back under the covers with you, his phalanges tangling back into the sheets, and your sleep shirt, as he settled back down more firmly on top of you.</p><p>To see the screen properly, you were sure.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Your presence was a drug he could easily get addicted to. He probably already was, if Dust was honest with himself. But like any Sans, lying to himself was a specialty, so he let your intent, slow and sleepy, roll over him and drag him under.</p><p>He should be tired and irritable, he always was after....well, after. But oh, <em>oh</em>, this was. Nice. Different. Nothing to do and no where to be. No one bothering him, and no one avoiding him. You simply let him exist. And you were warm. Years of high lv sunk deep in his magic kept him running hot, everything else chilled by comparison to his own bones. Even so, he had awoken sometime in the night from a dream, half remembered, only the sticky splash of spilled magic across his face and his namesake, gritty between his joints and in his smile.</p><p>For the first time in a long, long while, he had wanted away. Away from...his 'home'? His brother? Himself? Still half crazed, his skull filled with questions he hated himself for asking, even in the silence, he twisted out of his jacket, always covered in dust, and kicked away his slippers, almost completely grey. It wasn't enough, but it had to be, for now.</p><p>He could never be who he was. He couldn't afford to regret anything. He could have this, though.</p><p>He sunk into the warmth created by your body and held by the blankets, a cocoon of sleep-hazed intent, nothing but <em>welcome/peace/still </em>soaking into his bones.</p><p>He made a choice, a long time ago, that split his time line. If he had just been more patient, perhaps he would have gotten a happy ending, like his 'original'. He might have even <em>been</em> the original, some other sucker of a Sans taking his place. Even now, he felt the lv humming along his magic, but up against this warmth. This moment in time. This place, with you...it was quiet. His hands didn't itch, his bones didn't burn.</p><p>He wasn't Sans. He could never be Sans, not anymore. But like this? He felt close.</p><p>It was time for another choice. This time, he didn't even have to think about it. This was his now. His 'vacation home'. His moment in time. His human.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You dozed, half watching and half-sleeping for you-don't-know-how-long tangled up in blankets and skeleton. It was long enough for your desire for food to overpower the pure enjoyment of a lazy morning.</p><p>“Hey Dust,” you started, but was abruptly interrupted by the floor.</p><p>
  <em>Vrrt Vrrt. VRRRRRRRT.</em>
</p><p>Dust rolled his mismatched eyelights, extracating himself from the blankets, sliding almost off the couch to fumble at his jacket. Ah, phone, not floor then.</p><p>“Not a sound,” he warned you as he struggled to crawl backwards back onto the couch. You nodded and mimed zipping your lips. Satisfied with your response, he hit 'answer' and held the phone up to his...huh. How did that work?</p><p>Dust didn't even get a chance to say hello, a low rumble spilling out of the speaker. Sounded grumpy. Maybe tired. Too low for you to eavesdrop though. You shuffled towards him, leaning in, but a skeletal hand in your face stopped your approach.</p><p>Dust just held your face like that for the next several minutes, making acknowledging grunts and 'mmhm' noises until whoever was on the line hung up.</p><p>“Jilted girlfriend?” you guessed, your voice muffled by finger bones, earning you a small bone that flicked harmlessly against your forehead. Still kind of stung though.</p><p>“Work. Gotta meet them there since they couldn't find me.” he griped, shoving his feet into his slippers.</p><p>“Where's 'there'?” you pried, kicking off enough blankets to sit up properly.</p><p>“It's murder stuff, the less you know-”</p><p>“-the happier I'll be,” you finished, “I know, I know. Just be careful out there.”</p><p>Dust's smile was sharp and cruel as he tugged his jacket back on, “I don't need to be, everyone else does.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, spooky scary edgelord skeleton,” you flapped your hands in a shoo-ing motion, “there's supposed to be a cold snap tomorrow so come by if you want chili.”</p><p>Dust mumbled something that might have been an affirmation, stepping up to 'his side' of the couch. He looked up, reached out and...was gone.</p><p>That was so cool, every single time.</p><p>Unfortunately this meant you should probably be a reasonably competent adult and be 'up' for the day. Boring. Well, if you wanted to have blankets for the night, you would need to dismantle your fort. A shame, really, you were pretty proud of this one.</p><p>It turned out that taking a blanket fort down was a lot harder that putting one up, or maybe it was just less fun. You didn't have to wash <em>all</em> the blankets right? You shuffled through the actual slept-in blankets. These were...probably fine. They smelled a little like Dust though. Like chalk and an overheated vacuum cleaner. Yeah, these were fine.</p><p>Not so much the blankets you pulled off your lamp, an alarming amount of dust coming off the shade along with the sheets. Great.</p><p> </p><p>Two hours and several laundry loads later, you were unceremoniously shoving your spare bedding into the closet when you heard the un-sound of a shortcut, followed by a horrifying cracking noise. Picturing splattered magic and splintered bones, you shot out into the living room in a panic, almost bouncing off the kitchen island as you slid in.</p><p>“Holy shit, are you....you are...”</p><p>You stare up. <em>Very</em> up. Into a single, unwavering eyelight, red and engorged.</p><p> </p><p>“Heh heh...hey there...lil treat.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ohboyohboyohboyohboy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A Terror-ble Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You make a new 'friend'. You play a game.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We have added another skeleton! I repeat: We have added a another skeleton!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“<em>Heh...hey there...lil treat.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Well, you'd have to accept the 'little' part. While you felt you were perfectly average, anyone would feel small next to the behemoth of a skeleton standing in front of you. His head wasn't touching the ceiling, so he wasn't nine feet. Then again, he stood hunched a little, the same way Dust did. The similarities didn't end there, given that this was clearly another 'Sans'. Same slippers, only pink and smeared with...you were going to pretend that was chocolate sauce. Even the same shorts and jacket, just...bigger. Thicker too, his visibly bones bulkier, with less space between tibia and fibula. Probably weighed a lot more too, if the broken leg of the couch was anything to go by. Poor thing must has snapped right off on impact. That <em>eye </em>though, swollen and red, taking up most of the socket same for a pin of black in the very center. The other socket was black and flat-looking, completely dead, though the bone around it moved smoothly with the rest of his face. Well, most of his face. There was a <em>giant freaking hole</em> on the top of his head, a gaping black hollow that neither bled nor crumbled with no sign of even an attempt at being healed.</p><p>You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a rasping breath. This was a lot easier with Dust, who had arrived obviously, actively dying and wasn't much of a threat the first time. This Sans was obviously functional, obviously dangerous, and obviously giving you a once, maybe twice-over with that single red eyelight.</p><p>You cleared your throat and tried again, “H-hey there, are you, uh, looking for Dust, maybe? He'll be back...uh...really, <em>really</em> soon, so-”</p><p>The 'new' Sans' smile widened, “nah...came to see...where he's been hidin'...easier if...he's gone. 'n he'll be gone...<em>awhile</em>.”</p><p>He spoke slowly, each word deliberate with short pauses every few words and punctuated by the incredibly unpleasant sound of bone rasping roughly against...the edge of a massive axe, casually held in one hand as he thumbed at the blade, almost like a worry stone or a fidget cube.</p><p>“Did you...you called him!” you realized with dawning horror. Help was not coming. At least, not soon enough.</p><p>The new Sans looked pleased, “shouldn't be....keeping secrets... an' I'm real good...at tracking.”</p><p>“I see,” you garbled out, taking two scrambling steps backwards to make up for the single step your new 'guest' took your way, “I don't, uh, I wasn't expecting...” fuck it, why not, “Do you need anything? Maybe for...” you gestured loosely at the top of your head.</p><p>The new Sans barked out a laugh, “izzat what...you did then? licked his wounds...and played house? eheheh.” He took another step, sending you backpedaling into the kitchen, “i c'n...see the appeal. somethin' cute...to hide away...'n' play with.” You've realize with a start that you've been backed up flush against the fridge, this 'Sans' only feet away, his thumb still rasping against his axe. He leaned down, still a head taller as he loomed over you, “whatcha say...lil treat? wanna play...with me too?”</p><p>“Yes!” your outburst seemed to startle the both of you, the newcomer standing up and tilting his head, “Yes,” you repeated, calmer this time, “I'll, uh, you want to know what Dust does, then, sure, fine, I'll...I'll play along.” Anything to keep your head on your shoulders for as long as possible.</p><p>“if you're stallin'...” the giant monster warned, but took a step back. You totally were.</p><p>“Yes, wait no! That's not...” you swallowed audibly, eyes flicking for <em>that</em> grin to <em>that</em> axe. Fuck it. Fuck this. It worked the first time. You took a deep breath, “Ok, I don't know what time it is, but I meant to eat like, hours ago. It's time for whatever between lunch and dinner is. Lunner? Dinch? Do you like spaghetti?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You hated this. You could feel that one red light staring at you unwaveringly as you cooked. He just sat there, perched on a bar stool. Between that vacant grin and unrelenting stare, your shoulders were practically up to your ears. You waffled between anger and fear, glaring at the diced chicken as though it was the cause of your troubles and trying to hide your sniffles while you stirred the noodles into the sauce.</p><p>“Ta-da.” Try as you might, you couldn't inject much enthusiasm in your tone as you slid the biggest plate you has across the kitchen bar, saving a smaller bowl for yourself, ”I'll get you a fork...or not, holy shit did you even taste that?” You ended up blurting despite your nerves.</p><p>He had taken your offering eagerly, cracked open that gaping maw of a mouth, and slid the entire thing in. Whole. You felt lucky the plate didn't go with it.</p><p>You startled as he then unfurled a red, luminescent tongue, licking almost thoughtfully at the sauce left on the plate, his eyelight shrinking and fuzzing out at the edge, giving a faint wobble before expanding back out to what you guessed was normal.</p><p>“more.”</p><p>You scowled, “Can I get a please?”</p><p>The skeleton chuckled, “sure, lil treat. more, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mister Skeleton,” you replied stiffly, taking the plate back to load it back up with the remainder.</p><p>“s'horror.”</p><p>You turned slightly, “My cooking?”</p><p>His sockets crinkled in a smile, “s'my name. Horror.”</p><p>“Are you serious, that's a fucking terrible name!”</p><p>“i'm a...heh, terror-ble sans.”</p><p>You deadpanned at him as you shoved a bite your share of chicken alfredo in your mouth. With a skeleton on the only barstool (how did he balance on that tiny thing?) you opted to stand and eat in the kitchen, where they was a bartop and sink between the two of you.</p><p>This time, Horror accepted a fork, though it was comical to watch him try to use it. Very, very, delicately, his middle and index finger pinching the utensil against his thumb. He still ate fast, quicker than you thought possible, but he chewed this time.</p><p>You ended up giving him most of your food as well. You just weren't that hungry. Probably had to do with all the threatening that was going on. Did Dust wear you out like this at first? You couldn't really remember anymore. He was a pill sometimes, but Horror took the cake. Maybe literally, given his apparent appetite.</p><p>“now what?” Horror looked at you curiously as you put the dishes (licked clean) away into the dishwasher.</p><p>Oh yeah. You were, ugh,<em> playing house</em>.</p><p>“We watch shitty reality TV, complain about the contestants choices, and show each other memes. Usually on the couch, but...” you cast a meaningful glance into your living room, where you couch sat sadly, listing to the side like a sinking ship.</p><p>Horror looked at it for an uncomfortably long time before grunting, “wondered where that went.”</p><p>“Dust exploded all over my old one. Wrecked the coffee table too.”</p><p>“then...what about...” he looked into your bedroom, trailing off.</p><p>“Uh, kind of early for a nap, for me. I'm not sure I have enough blankets for you anyways. No offense.”</p><p>“nap?” The behemoth monster looked at you blankly, “you n' dust don't...?”</p><p>“Don't?” you squinted, then realization hit you like a truck, “NO! We <em>don't</em>!”</p><p>Horror's laugh was low and rumbly, “good t' know...you're a <em>treat</em>...not a <em>tart</em>. wondered why...you were so willing...t' <em>play</em>.”</p><p>“It's not a game,” you snapped before your common sense could stop you, “Dust is my friend. We had to work really, really hard to be friends, and it's not...like that.”</p><p>“y'want it t' be?” Horror was looking down at you appraisingly. You scowled up at him.</p><p>“I've never considered it,” you said finally, “He doesn't seem the type to go for...anything more complicated than bad food and worse tv.”</p><p>Horror sighed. You couldn't catch that set of micro-expressions, but you felt a sinking feeling in your gut as he turned away from you.</p><p>“you're not wrong...but this...all this...it's bad...he can't keep it...he'll change.”</p><p>“Why- Why is that such a bad thing?”</p><p>“others 'll notice...if the boss...finds out...” From this angle, you weren't sure, but it looked like he had stuck in fingers in his dead socket, scratching at the inside. “s' better for 'im...this way. so don't...take this personal...but Dusty's gotta...learn somehow...better me...than th' boss.”</p><p>You turned a fraction too late. You barely saw it coming. You didn't feel anything, no magic in the air. Because...Because this skeleton didn't use magic, just an axe. He was surprisingly fast. Just suddenly <em>there</em>. It felt like your middle was split completely open. Gutted, like a fish.</p><p> </p><p>And everything. Was just. Red.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoops...<br/>Well, it's for the best...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Color Shift Formula</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Is this death?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, I was originally going to wait, like, a week to post this, but I left you on a cliffhanger last time, and doing it again feels mean.<br/>This is a very, VERY short chapter on purpose, for obvious reasons.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The world around you faded in and out as you were reduced to rasping gurgles on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>A red star winked into existence above you. “if we weren't...who we were...” You had to strain to hear over your own pulse and the ringing in your ears.</p><p>“-taking your time. aw, don't lookit...me like that. here..i'll help ya...finish up.”</p><p>The star winked out.</p><p> </p><p>You couldn't see, but it sounded like...hail. And it felt like magic. You think you smiled.</p><p> </p><p>A pair of hands, scrabbling at yours, pulling them away from your wound.</p><p>“...can't be serious-”</p><p> </p><p>You were so cold. The warmth was scalding.</p><p>“-deal with you later, fucker-”</p><p> </p><p>Pressure on your chest, your stomach, pushing those white hot lines of pain, and everything was wet, wet, wet.</p><p>“...dump her with the star-”</p><p> </p><p>A blast of heat. The snarl of a cannon.</p><p> </p><p>Hands on you. All of you. Wrapped up and condensed into a tiny, infinitesimal but infinite point.</p><p>And everything.</p><p>Went.</p><p>
  <em>Blue.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, at least it's less of a cliffhanger?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Flash Flooding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The plot marches onwards, with questions answered, questions asked, and answers you can probably guess. No real twists here. Trust me.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Huh. So Lil' Treat had moves. Too bad he was faster. He missed your head entirely as you reeled back, but he got the rest, his axe sliding through skin and muscle easy as anything.</p><p>Horror leaned over your body as you lay crumpled on the linoleum. It really was a damn shame. Your food was smothered in Fear and Anger, but underneath it all...well, Horror hadn't tasted Hope in...well, he didn't remember. He could understand why Dust kept this human for himself. Though you didn't seem to speak it well, your soul oozed intent, thick like syrup and just as sweet. And not an ounce of harmful intent, not a single thought.</p><p>Idiot.</p><p>Dust too, Horror amended, licking the blood splatter off his fingers. If Dust was found out, Nightmare would have to...have to...</p><p>Horror frowned. He didn't remember, exactly the specifics. Something to “Bring them back to themselves,” Nightmare called it. It wasn't good. Dust would be taken away and...and...Horror frowned, the grind of dust between his fingers and the sharp, pain in his socket refocusing him as he tugged on his dead socket.</p><p>Well, no sense in worrying about it.</p><p>“poor thing,” he said, almost absently, his attention returning to the small, shivering soul in front of him,“if we weren't...who we were...in any other 'verse...somethin' like you...mebby you'd get a....a good sans. As good as...we get anyways.”</p><p>Your eyes flickered with a dull sort of awareness from where you had curled up on the ground. A bit like an overcooked shrimp, Horror thought.</p><p>“listen. this usually goes....faster,” Horror mumbled, watching as you tried to move. You were having a hard time, but sliced ab muscles and blood loss seemed to be causing problems, “but...gotta make a...make a statement. Make the...eheheh, <em>point</em> clear.”</p><p>You gurgled. Horror wasn't sure if you were just trying to breathe, or if that deadpan look was actually directed at him.</p><p>“What? Don't like...<em>edgy</em> humor?”</p><p>He sighed. It just wasn't as fun when no one could really react. “alright...alright,” he eyed the growing puddle of blood as it pooled around you, “'m not as....patient as I used to....used to be,” and the waves of fear rolling off your soul were starting to get to him, “so if you're...done takin' your time.”</p><p>You wheezed, your hand closest to him curling into shaking, but familiar gesture. Horror snorted. Well, that was technically a reaction. It had been a while since someone had flipped him off in the middle of dying.</p><p>“aw. don't lookit...me like that. here..i'll help ya...finish up.” He hefted his axe experimentally. He'd go for the head this time. A kindness to repay you for the good food.</p><p> </p><p>The head of the axe swung down with practiced ease- only to crash against a thick wall of red bones that shot up from the floor. The magic cracked on impact, a few bones splintering as the recoil sent Horror stumbling back, off balance enough to be bowled over by a pair of slipper-clad feet slamming into his side.</p><p>“hey dusty, gonna....be a hero f'r your...your lil human?” the larger skeleton scrabbled to his feet, using his axe to block the rain of bones, fired without comment and pinning Horror half to the floor, half to the wall. Bones were wedged not just in his clothes, but through his ulna and radius, and jammed into his ribs. Grabbing at the bones sent crackling pain through his bones. Oh well, probably best to let Dust burn himself out on his own then.</p><p> </p><p>“shit shit shit, c'mon, look at me, up here.”</p><p>From his vantage point, Horror watched as Dust dropped down in the puddle of blood. Most of his body and yours was obscured by the bar, but he could hear the smaller skeleton muttering as he leaned over your limp form.</p><p>A beat of silence.</p><p>Then...</p><p>“fuck it.”</p><p>Horror's sockets widened as a red glow lit up the kitchen, “aw, dusty...you cant be serious. th' hell are you trying to do?” No response. He tried again “i get it.... she was a real good find-”</p><p>“shut up,” Dust stood abruptly, pulling his jacket off and rolling you into it under the bright glow of his magic, sparking angrily in the air, “i'll deal with you later, fucker. you have no idea-” the glow flickered and Dust sucked in an unneeded breath. The glow evened out.</p><p>Horror frowned. Dust can't heal. None of them could. Too much LoVE and no fucks to give about others. Apparently Dust was holding out on them with a single, lone fuck, and it was about this human. Forcing magic into a human won't do anything. Shouldn't do anything. Right? The edges of his skull fracture itched.</p><p>“dust. C'mon.... its a lost cause. If you care...that much... just dump her with the star sanses. they can... they can fix 'er up nice... an' keep 'er safe.”</p><p>Horror wasn't expecting the blaster that formed, almost the size of Horror himself. Unable to move, he could only flinch as the blaster fired...Missing him on his left by inches.</p><p>When his eye refocused, he was met with...silence.</p><p>Dust was gone. And so was your body.</p><p>Well fuck.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em>Your feet were cold on the stone floor, but you hugged your jacket (blue, but faded with age. It was yours, but wasn't always) closer to you as if it would ward off the chill that steeped every wall that surrounded you. Hall after hall of walking and looking (for what?), how could such a huge place be so empty? Not a soul wandered these halls or lurked in these rooms. It was only you. You, and the shadow that followed you, step for step.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Your ascent to consciousness was slow, starting with sound, burbling in and out in waves. Clatter and chatter, someone always talking, people always moving. Next came sensation, which wasn't nearly as gentle as sound. Your chest screamed in protest as your body booted back up, every inch sore or stinging at the mere thought of movement. Which, you weren't sure you could move, actually. You flexed your fingers. Ok, you could move, but it was a mistake. Still, given your last functional memory that wasn't a blur of colors was slowly bleeding out in your own kitchen, you should probably make sure that wasn't still happening. Your eyes were sticky, protesting as they opened.</p><p>Well, that wasn't your ceiling. So a good start.</p><p>You had never needed to go to Ebott Hospital before, but it seemed like that's where you had ended up if the sticker on your IV pole was to be believed.</p><p>Ebott Hospital - TRAUMA.</p><p>Yeah, that made sense.</p><p>You weren't sure how long you laid there, listening to the bustle of the world outside your room and watching your IV bags slowly drip out...whatever was in there, into you.</p><p>You should move. Call your parents. Maybe your boss. Though based on the bouquet of golden flowers next to the sink, he might already know. At least you should check and find out why you aren't dead.</p><p>You did none of those things.</p><p>“Oh! You're awake!”</p><p>You choked on your scream, managing a dry gurgle as you startled, staring wide-eyed at the monster who had stepped through the door. They were carrying two small plastic IV bags, presumably to change out your current batch, and looking at you almost as surprised as you were. They looked a bit like a ferret, if ferrets were six feet tall with four dainty arms.</p><p>The monster bustled over quickly, grabbing your chart from somewhere around your feet and setting everything down on a tray near your bed.</p><p>“My goodness, my goodness, I am so glad to see you up. More or less.”</p><p>You made to sit, but three firm, clawed hands grabbed you quickly as you hissed out, pain lancing up your stomach so hard you gagged.</p><p>“Oh, stars, here,” a kidney-shaped bowl was shoved into your hands as you were gently guided back down, “Please don't try to sit up, you've been through quite a lot, dear. Just roll to the side if you need to- oh wait, here, I'll lean you up,” they fiddled with a remote you hadn't noticed before, and the bed tilted you up with a mechanical whir.</p><p>“Now, I'm sure you must have some questions, naturally naturally, but we must do this properly, since-” they sighed, “well, since. Now, my name is Polekit and I'm your primary night shift nurse. You were brought in three days ago with a grievous injury and massive blood loss. You had your drivers license in the pocket of your jacket, but just to make sure, can you tell me your name?”</p><p>“Uh.... ______? _______ ________.” You winced as how scratchy and rough you sounded. Your nurse must have noticed too, as they were quick to get you a...well, it was an adult sippy cup of water.</p><p>“_______ ________, that checks out, excellent excellent!” Polekit nodded, writing on your clipboard, “Now, I don't need details, you can save those for the police, but I have to ask, do you know why you are here?”</p><p><em>'A giant skeleton from an alternate universe tried to cut me in half'</em> was probably not going to do much but have you transferred to the psych ward. So instead you tried...</p><p>“A...a home invasion?” It was technically the truth, “I got...” your hand drifted to the front of your chest.</p><p>Come to think of it.</p><p>Ignoring your bodies protest, you craned your neck down and pulled away the collar of your hospital gown. Staples and stitches, from higher than you could look to lower than you could see, a clean, diagonal swipe carefully knitted together with dully glowing green.</p><p>“Oh shit,” you breathed.</p><p>Polekit marked something else down as they nodded, “You are a very, very lucky young lady. If you hadn't...well, had so much magic in your system, we wouldn't have been able to save you. You humans just have so much matter to work around!”</p><p>“Magic? Oh no, I'm not a mage.”</p><p>Did ferrets blush? You supposed a ferret monster could, because they were.</p><p>“Yes, dear, we know, that's listed on your license, you just had...leftovers. From.” they swirled one of their hands in a 'so forth' motion.</p><p>You raised your eyebrows, “Monster food?”</p><p>The nurse boggled at you, “You would have to eat more food than your stomach could contain to get that much in you from food alone, surely you-” they paled, and glanced at the door, then back to you, their voice going low “Just a moment.” They stood and hastily strode across the room, shutting the door quickly and quietly before returning to your side, a set of hands taking one of yours each.</p><p>“______, if you were Flooded without permission...”</p><p>You ducked your head and leaned in in a mimicry of their posture, “So this is really awkward, and is obviously something important that I have missed, but what is flooding?” you whispered back.</p><p>“Oh dear, oh dear,” Nurse Polekit scrubbed at their muzzle nervously, “It's not really ever spoken of, not even in monster society, but surely, surely your boyfriend? Girlfriend? Significant other?”</p><p>You stared back blankly, “Is this a sex-ed thing I missed at some point? I went to public school, so I wouldn't be surprised.”</p><p>“It is not a 'sex thing',” the ferret corrected, their muzzle coloring a delicate pink, “It is...more of a relationship thing. A deep. Meaningful. Permanent. Relationship....thing.”</p><p>“Is this a 'when two SOULs love each other very much' situation? Wait, am I pregnant? I did NOT ok that!”</p><p>“No, no, no little soulings in there, we already checked,” the nurse soothed you as a few of the machines started beeping, presumably to alert someone to your spike in blood pressure, “but it is incredibly troubling a monster saw fit to do something so personal and invasive.”</p><p>“If it helps, I can promise to throttle the answers out of the monster in question?” you offered. You had a pretty good idea of who you needed to yell at, at least.</p><p>Nurse Polekat released your hands and set to replacing your IV fluids, “I must admit, I am very concerned about your flippancy over the situation. While I can't force you, I do encourage you to report this to the police, they'll be wanting to talk to you about the attack now that you're awake.”</p><p>Oh. Right.</p><p>You should probably come up with a lie about that.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>If anyone was curious, here's how Dust came to the rescue:</em>
</p><p>Dust grimaced. He hated world-hopping without Nightmare's portals. While Nightmare had the power to open a hole from A to B instantly, the more 'standard Sans' models had to take a series of well-worn shortcuts through the void, bouncing from adjacent universes or through a natural rip, like the one that lead to the untimely demise of your couch, until reaching their final destination.</p><p>If he had to guess, there were about three more jumps to take, not including his current location, Outertale. A neutral 'verse, and the fact that it had the best astro-nicecream to refill his magic reserve didn't hurt either.</p><p>
  <em>PI-KO PI-KO!</em>
</p><p>Dust gagged, almost slamming his face into the nicecream cone. What the fuck was that?! The sound rattled in his skull as it repeated itself, directly into his acoustic meatus. He whirled around.</p><p>He was alone.</p><p>
  <em>PI-KO PI-KO! PI-KO PI-KO!</em>
</p><p>Wait. It wasn't the sound. His skull was literally buzzing. Where was...?</p><p>Dust fumbled at the back of his skull, following the vibrations down to...his hood? It took more flexibility than he was used to displaying, but eventually managed to get his phalanges on what<em>ever the fuck was</em>- oh.</p><p>Your phone.</p><p>Your monster phone.</p><p>With an inventory system keyed to your soul.</p><p> </p><p>Several alerts were splashed on the lock screen.</p><p>
  <b>WARNING!</b>
</p><p>HP 5/120</p><p>
  <b>WARNING!</b>
</p><p>HP 3/120</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>WARNING!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>SEEK MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>HP 1/120</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Dust broke five more laws of reality than usual as he tore into the void.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had to cute this chapter in half, and it was so hard to find a spot to do it, so sorry for the weird cut!<br/>As usual, your comments give me life, and I've really been enjoying reading what people think are about to happen. So. What do you think is about to go down?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. It's a Hard Knock Life (Pt. 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You weren't having the best time in the hospital, but it could always be worse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those wondering, yes, Dust 100% drop-kicked Horror, and it was just as glorious as you are imaging it.</p><p>Just a peek into Readers' hospital time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had wondered when the shock of everything would catch up to you; apparently it had arrived. You wouldn't have called what you were doing 'crying', you didn't have enough feeling for that, you weren't upset enough to <em>cry</em>. No, this was more like a steady leaking from your eyes and sometimes nose.</p><p>The doctor, the actual put-you-back-together doctor, had come in, Nurse Polekit sitting next to you as he talked about your state of arrival and treatment plan, as well as the results of tests, consent forms, acknowledge forms, stacks on stacks of paper on paper.</p><p>“Essentially DOA,” he had said. He was a tired, but kind-looking human Healer Mage who had been about to start his shift when you were quite literally shoved into his arms by a 'small, irate monster' who had somehow managed to bypass every form of waiting room and intake procedure, depositing you directly outside the ER break room. In the ensuing chaos they lost track of who brought you, did you know -? Well, that was a police matter, he guessed.</p><p>Your SOUL, you were told, was basically held together by hopes and dreams and an obscene amount of blue magic. Halfway through shattering, it was practically glued together by someone elses magic, so thick your own natural coloration was completely smothered.</p><p>Just as concerning was the state of your body. The doctor had offered post-op pictures, the same that were being turned into the police as evidence of an attack, but you didn't need to look to know the damage. It was much easier to read the block printed words on the intake forms. Cracked clavicle and sternum, it said, two broken ribs, a concussion, massive trauma to the diaphragm, stomach, and lower intestine. Abdominal muscles cut. Blood loss incompatible with life.</p><p>All the green magic in the world couldn't heal a human like it could a monster. Magic worked best on magic, or on SOULs. Humans had a lot more 'stuff' to them, which made it a prime candidate for secondary healing purposes. It couldn't heal a broken bone, but it would reduce the swelling and heal the incision made to bolt a bone in place.</p><p>Except.</p><p>You thumbed at the edge of the pages of your SOUL Scan.</p><p>You had a lot of broken bones. And missing blood. And apparently your intestines were trying to make a run for it.</p><p>'Flooding', the nurse called it. Someone elses magic, pushed directly into your SOUL, directly into your body. As much as you could take, or as much as they could give. Enough that with your 'stuff' crammed full of their magic, the Healer Mage could guide everything back into place and jump start the recovery process.</p><p>Your SOUL Scan had roughly the same stats as usual. Nothing too different than your last check up. Your ATK and DEF were low, but it was hard to be anything more than passive when you couldn't sit up. Max HP was normal, though the current count was down. Gee, wonder why. Your flavor text was a little weird, “Doesn't like alfredo anymore.” Both you and your doctor had hoped for something a little more profound or telling...but it wasn't wrong either.</p><p>You wiped at your eyes again. SOUL Scans also produced a rudimentary image, flat and cartoony, in a charming way. The scans were never as meaningful or vibrant as the real thing. Still pretty though. You traced the outline of your own SOUL on the paper. It was warped, a little bit, several cracks creeping out towards the edges from a thick gash in the center, obviously from the almost-killing blow. Well, you supposed it was, technically, the killing blow.</p><p>Your color was normal, or as normal as it got, given the circumstances. Though, while the image was flat, and the ink wasn't as bright as it was in real life, all those cracks and fissures were stuffed full of the most familiar cyan.</p><p> </p><p>You were still sort of leaking when the police arrived. They had come prepared, armed with written statements from neighbors (there was a fight), pages and pages of pictures of your apartment (blood stains and holes in the walls), some blurry stills from the hospital security cam (you looked oddly small, bundled up like that), and...</p><p>“You were wearing this when you were brought in., is it yours?”</p><p>You stared at the plastic bag presented to you, the inside smeared with your own blood and a very stained hoodie that used to, probably, be blue.</p><p>“No,” you said, after a pause, “it was-” how much should you say? How much <em>could</em> you say?</p><p>“It's covered in monster dust,” an officer pressed, but his..partner? Boss? Laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. A sharp pain reminded you to stop tugging at the front of your shirt.</p><p>“We've had reports of a man targeting monsters and monster 'sympathizers' in the area,” the second officer said kindly, “We think it's the same man who hurt you.”</p><p>“I don't remember,” you said. Lied. Your voice cracking through your tears was a nice, though inadvertent touch.</p><p>There were more questions. Who brought you in? What was the weapon? More pictures. Your broken couch. Neat, perfectly circular holes punched into the wall. A thick pool of browning blood on your kitchen floor.</p><p>You don't remember most of your answers. You were exhausted. At some point, the police left, and the nurse on duty brought you some tea. There would be another healing session soon. The tea was too hot, but flush full of healing magic and something sweet. Honey?</p><p>You fell asleep.</p><p>You didn't dream.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Your head lay next to you on the ground.<br/>You...weren't really counting on that,b̴̭̀ủ̵͔̠t̴͇͒͘ ̸̞̺̆ÿ̶̹͉o̶̬̻͘u̸̩̾̚ s̴͕͓͓̼̞͒̈́̾u̶̙͚̼̥̪̽̒̓̑̍̈́̂̑̕̚̕ṕ̷͖̓͒̌̇͘͠p̸̛̬̱̭͙̩̹͇͙̂̍͜͝ͅô̷̧̱͓͈̫̣̞̻̝͜s̴̝̭̟͕̠̖͓̐̈́̀e̴̯͖͚̩͔̠̮͑̿͋͝ ̵̨̛̺͔̲̺̦̺̍̓̋̏ͅi̵̡̜͈͍͋̃̂̊͐͒̉̆͑̕t̸̢̨̛̘̟͛̎̓̓͊̈͊̾͑͜ ̸̩͉̠̦̊̈́͊̇͐̾̚͝w̴̧̧̡͓̝̗̖̪̲̰͗̄̽͗̄́͂̔͜͝ã̴̤͖͎̣͋͐́͗͑͝s̷̳̠̤̣͕̍̑̒̓̔̊̕̚̕ť̸̛̖̘̭̤̖̲̪̌̂̐̾͌́̽̿̿͛̚͠ö̷̧͙̯̲͇̋̑͘͘ ̶̢̖͍̦̻͓̯̘̎̃̆̉̏̒̓̚͜͠b̵̛͎̩̿̄̈́̎͛̂͛́̈͗͘̚͝ĕ̷̝̗̥̮͍̜͔̀̎͛̊̔̌̿͌̇̒̊̆̀͝ ̸̨̞̯̻̑̉̽͜͝͝é̵̦̠͙̣͚̆͒̔̌̋͝ͅx̴̧̡̳͕͕͚͈͖̦̩͚͔̼̙̑̋̈́̑͑͝p̴̣̭̍͂̌̎͆̽̿̃̉͐͠͠ę̸̬̼̫̫͕͈͕̣̻̫̔̅̈́̎̔̐͌̔̕͘͝c̵̳͋͛́̄̈́́̉͑̍̂̏̉ṭ̸̥̖͕̮̗̓̋ȩ̶͓͓̝̰̤̹̳͙͂̿̅̏̽̾̓̎͒́̏̈́͐̚̚͜d̵̢̳͇͈̄̋͋̆̾̿̏̓̎̆͌́ͅ.̴̝̟̰͕̬̯̯̀ͅ.̴̬̻̫͈͎̟̘̤̣͕͎̖͍̙̺̑̈́̀̓͂̂̿̎̉̓̂̎̿̚͠͝.̶̗̮̜͂̋̐͂̒̚</em>
</p><p> </p><p>At least, you don't think you did?</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“I disown you,” you flailed, trying to find the right combination of movements to sit up on your own. Nurse Polekit watched patiently, a wry smile on their face, “You are the worst nurse. I am <em>suffering</em>.”</p><p>Day four of your hospital stay, and the second day of being allowed to at least try to be a functional human being. Unfortunately, your body didn't get the memo, and continued to be defiantly useless.</p><p>“Your body has burned through all your...extra ambient magic,” your doctor had explained, “Now all of your healing sessions have drained a significant amount of calories and fat reserves, and the healed tissue is still very weak.” Which explained the massive amount of food you were getting at meal times, and your new marching orders of 'try to sit up on your own.' every few hours.</p><p>You weren't making much head way.</p><p>“Aaand that's your five!” Nurse Polekit clicked the timer and wrote something on their clipboard, “You're doing very well, very well!”</p><p>You grumbled as you let yourself flop down, pain rippling through your body in short spasms. With pain killers taking the sharpest edge off the pain, the exercises were still riding that line of barely tolerable.</p><p>You warbled your thanks as Polekit handed you your adult sippy cup of water and sucked down as much as you could.</p><p>It had been a long day. You had to talk your parents down from flying out to see you (and the state of your apartment, yikes), mollifying them with the promise that of <em>course</em> you would call them the second you needed anything, ever, at all. Then came the police officers from before. Yes, you were doing well. No, you didn't remember anything else. Trauma's a bitch that way. Then your boss came to visit, all dewy eyed with assurances and hand pats and more flowers. He had tried to call, but your phone was long dead and you had no idea where it was in the first place.</p><p>“You're all good for the night, dear,” the nurse startled you out of your daily recap as they slid your chart back onto the end of your bed, “Shall I tuck you in, comfy cozy, comfy cozy?” they teased, pulling up your sheets and blankets into your reach.</p><p>“One night maybe, but not tonight,” you said, as you did every time they asked.</p><p>Polekit clicked the lights off as they left, shutting the door with a click.</p><p>Your room was never really properly dark, the shades were too thin, and light from the halls crawled under your door. Lights from your IV stand (now mostly holding a healing drip with pain killers; it was freaky seeing blood hanging up there the first day and a half) and the assist light from your call button helped to give the room a surreal, aimless glow. Still, sleep wasn't hard. You were always so tired now.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Clank.</em>
</p><p>“watch it, asshole”</p><p>“shut it, tiny”</p><p>It took a minute for your brain to catch up with the noises in your room, but when you did...</p><p>
  <em>Oh fuck this.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gee, I WoNdEr WhO ??</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. It's a Hard Knock Life (Pt. 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If you ask a Sans a question...you get nothing. Because you asked a Sans.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't intend for this to be in three parts, but I had to cut the second part in half, it was getting too long!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“we know...yer awake.”</p><p>“I'm not pretending to sleep, I'm playing dead. Hopefully you'll leave me alone that way.” You sniped back.</p><p>“yeah,” came the drawl you were more familiar with, “those rising numbers on your heart monitor sure are helping your case.”</p><p>You sighed and hit the 'rise' button on the bar of your hospital bed, looking at the intruding duo sourly.</p><p>You hadn't expected to see Dust again, but you had hoped. You had hoped to never see Horror again, but was expecting it.</p><p>“Come to finish the job?”</p><p>You were expecting to feel fear, the same choking, cloying kind of panic that came when the axe carved through your body. Maybe the confused tumbling fear of your first few lucid moments of the hospital, terrified to die but knowing you were too hurt to live.</p><p>The fear never came. You felt...angry. Maybe you had cried out all your other feelings earlier, and all you had left was this sour sharpness, bitter as bile as it rose in you.</p><p>Horror locked his eye(light?) with yours, a tilt his head as he watched you with that rictus grin. His engorged eyelight widened, then shrunk in his socket.</p><p>“You're...<em>smaller</em>,” he said finally.</p><p>“No SHIT, you turned my intestines into silly string! I don't even get solid food right now because you-” the sound of a rolling cart going down the hall cut through your rant. Right, hospital. Quiet. “because you,” you continued at a sharp whisper, “decided to redecorate my kitchen with my blood and guts! Human's don't survive that, except I'm super special because apparently-” you snapped your glare to Dust, who had wedged himself between you and Horror and looking justly slightly more amused than bored, “you! Did...something! And no one will tell me what! And I can't decide how I feel about it, and I want answers! And I don't have the time or the energy to wade through all the angst-flavored bullshit you throw up when I ask anything about anything!” Ah, great, your eyes were leaking again. “Why are you even here? You haven't even answered that.”</p><p>Dust scrubbed at his face with one hand, reaching into his inventory and pulling out a grocery bag. He tossed it on the bed.</p><p>You realize as the bag landed neatly at your side that neither he nor Horror had taken a single step towards you since they arrived. They both stood in the corner furthest away from your bed, Horror looking on blandly as you glanced inside the bag. Wait, how did that work? Could inventories hold things that had things in them? Did it count as one thing? No, <em>focus</em>.</p><p>Your phone. Your charger. A blanket, clearly nicked from your apartment. A few pairs of your socks. An oversized t-shirt. Clearly this grocery bag was blatantly breaking the laws of physics, but most things seemed to around Dust. With a grateful sigh, you pulled out the shirt...was this your shirt?”</p><p>“Is this my shirt?” you asked, confusedly unwadding it. It featured a knife, stabbed into a box of Wheatie-Os and emblazoned with the phrase 'Cereal Killer'.</p><p>“Is now,” Dust said. His posture screamed “Totally Fine, Nothing To See,” but you caught it. Just the barest whisper.</p><p>“Is now,” he had said, with something hidden and unsaid.</p><p>“Is now.” were the words, plain and simple.</p><p>You turned it over in your head, “Is now.” “Is now.” “<em>Is now.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Is now/yours/a gift.</em>”</p><p>“<em>yours/a gift/-</em>”</p><p>“<em>yours/a gift/--</em>”</p><p>“<em>a gift/...</em><em>,</em><em>o</em><em>,,</em><em>y</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“he brought you...underwear too,” Horror gleefully spoke up over Dust's head, the shorter skeleton's face lighting up a dusky lilac.</p><p>You glanced back into the bag. Yup. Those were yours.</p><p>“Neat,” you squeaked, shoving the shirt back in to cover them. It really would be nice to get back into something, anything, that wasn't hospital-regulation, explanations of where it came from be damned. “I'm still mad,” you added as an afterthought, starting hard at your lap.</p><p>“yeah,” Dust's reply was passive, an easy agreement, but he wasn't looking at you just as hard as you weren't looking at him. Behind him, the taller skeleton hovered, that eye unnervingly fixed on you again.</p><p>“I have no idea where to start with how upset I am.”</p><p>“we can leave,” Dust offered.</p><p>“How did you even get in here? With him!” You made a sweeping gesture to the behemoth skeleton behind your friend, smothering the rush of pain from the movement with a flare of anger.</p><p>“thought you might like a little comfort from home,” Dust eyed the strings of wire and tubing that ran from you to the various machines monitoring vitals or dripping fluid into your body, “thought you might want some company.”</p><p>“he wanted...to make sure his favorite...human was still kickin',” Horror added, seeming to enjoy the annoyance directed at him from both you and Dust. You flipped him off. “attagirl.”</p><p>“taking a blind shortcut is dangerous,” said Dust, driving his elbow into Horror's lower ribs, “I needed to know exactly where you were to get here.”</p><p>“An' i toldja,” said the other skeleton, “ 'm the...the best at...at finding.”</p><p>“I hate everything about that, but thank you for explaining something plainly for once in your life,” you grumbled, unfolding the blanket and trying to flick it hard enough to cover your legs. You were failing.</p><p>“i won't come back,” Dust offered, leaning against one of the uncomfortable room chairs, “if you don't want to see me again. it'd be the smart thing.”</p><p>“Well,” you huffed, pausing in your fumbling, “lucky for you, I happen to be a complete idiot. Though maybe make Mister Hack-n-Slash stay at home next time. And every time. Forever.”</p><p>“Mmno...i...i'm done...with...that,” Horror shuffled in place uncomfortably, “i though you were...” he trailed off, his eyelight shrinking as he dug his phalanges into the dead socket. Dust, apparently used to this, continued where Horror left off.</p><p>“he thought he was protecting me from getting in trouble with the boss, because i keep company only with idiots, apparently.”</p><p>“Why would you be in trouble? Is it because I'm human?”At your questions Dust snorted and rolled his eyes. You prepared for more Dust Bullshit. You were not disappointed.</p><p>“Oh, for fucks sake,” satisfied his presence was at least permissible, he approached your bed and snatched your blanket out of your hands, “this is just sad.” In one annoyingly easy movement, the blanket unfolded and laid to rest on top of you.</p><p>“Not as smooth as your usual evasions, but I'll allow it.” You yawned. You weren't sure what time it was, but you <em>had</em> just been asleep, and could probably use several more hours.</p><p>“go back to sleep,_____,” Dust's usual grin pulled down at the edges, “you look terrible.”</p><p>“You woke me up!”</p><p>“because horror has all the grace of a drunken toad.”</p><p>At the sound of his name, Horror's head snapped up from where it had been tilting to the side under the force of his socket-pulling. His eyelight expanded again as it focused on you.</p><p>“you're...<em>smaller,</em>” he muttered, taking a step forward.</p><p>You flinched, finally feeling that ripple of fear to were expecting from the start. You covered it with a laugh, not matter how it hurt your ribs, “Aha, yes, um, you cut me open. We've had this conversation before. Murder attempt and all.”</p><p>“mmf, forgot...don't....<em>mind</em> me,” he gave a short, raspy laugh, tapping at the edge of the hole in his head. He hesitated, and took a step back, giving his dead socket a sharp tug, “they're...feeding you here...right?”</p><p>You ground your teeth, “Soft foods and liquids only. Vitamins too, right on tap” you raised your arm to show off the IV port in the crook of your arm, “I don't suppose you remember why that might be?” You asked, all sickly sweet. If looks could kill...you weren't sure that would be of any use since he was already a skeleton. But you could dream.</p><p>“you're shaking,” Dust sat down on the edge of your bed, “you need to calm down before the heart monitor calls someone in here.”</p><p>“I need to calm down?! You literally brought my murderer for a visit. <em>Murderer</em>. I should be dead, Dust. Your friend killed me. No one will tell me why I'm even alive! My soul is..is all fucked up, I would kill for some chicken wings right now, <em>I have to use a bed pan</em>! Don't you dare tell me to calm down you emotionally constipated skeleton!”</p><p>“what's a...bed pan?” asked Horror, ignoring the mood completely and looking around the bed like an example would miraculously appear.</p><p>“i hear it's one of the more un-a-<em>pee</em>-ling parts of being human.” your friend replied. You could almost hear the dial-up noises as the larger skeleton processed.</p><p>Slowly, his grin widened, “so...if you don't have one...urine trouble?”</p><p>“Oh my God he does it too? No, don't answer that. Stop.”</p><p>“our jokes aren't that shitty, are they?”</p><p>“maybe...she doesn't like...potty humor?”</p><p>“Stooooop.”</p><p>“what, are you going to call the poo-lice on us if we don't?”</p><p>“I died. I died and I'm in hell. This is hell.”</p><p>Dust smiled, one of those real ones the two of you both pretended he never made, “maybe we should cut it out, Horror, she's already looking pretty flushed.”</p><p>You hit the recline button on your hospital bed.</p><p>“I'm dead,” you said in response to Dusts' rising brow-bone, “Nobody's home. Your weird magic infusion failed. Goodbye.”</p><p>Dust's smile dropped, as much as his perpetual grin ever really did, his cheeks lighting up with the slightest hint of purple. In his corner, Horror cackled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ooooh we gonna LEARN some STUFF next chapter. FINALLY.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. It's a Hard Knock Life (Pt. 3)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Our reader gets to learn some things, and manages to keep her shit together for like, an hour. Maybe. Dust almost has a feeling. Horror continues to be terrible forever.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here we go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh that can't be good,” you eyed Horror as his laughter gave way to wheezy chuckles so hard he had to sit down, “Come on, you have to tell me now. Are we married? Did you marry me? I'm know I'm not pregnant, they checked for that-”</p><p>“what??” Dust's voice came out as more of a squawk as he abruptly straightened up, smacking the 'lift' button on your bed to force you upright again “fuck sakes, _____, what have they been telling you?”</p><p>You gestured to the stack of paperwork on the plastic bedside 'shelf', “They had to run a SOUL-scan after I was mostly stabilized to make sure I hadn't fissured due to trauma. Spoiler alert: I did. A lot.” Dust pulled the papers into his lap. He didn't have to flip too far in to find the copy of your scan. Once you saw he had it in his hands, you continued, “I was blasted up so full of magic it wedged itself in my soul like some kind of freaky super glue. I'm sure you recognize the color.”</p><p>Dust raised a hand, his phalanges brushing under the socket of his two-toned eye, “thats...not what i intended.”</p><p>You waited for him to elaborate.</p><p>He did not.</p><p>So you continued.</p><p>“Well, whatever you meant to do, it also meant that there was enough magic to get everything mostly back in the right place and have me healing in the right direction. If you hadn't, I'd be dead. So thank you. However, now everyone is treating me like I'm a victim of some horrific assault beyond the obvious,” you gestured to the whole of yourself, thin and pale in a blue hospital gown, “and no one will tell me exactly what you did, only that it's super secret, and scandalous.”</p><p>“and kinky!” Horror piped up, clearly enjoying Dust's growing discomfort.</p><p>“stop helping me,” Dust snapped, his cheekbones taking on a glowstick-like purple.</p><p>“So it i<em>s</em> a sex thing,” you accused.</p><p>“no!” Dust made a motion to pull his hood down, fumbling for a moment before realizing he wasn't wearing it.</p><p>“...sometimes.” Horror offered through giggles.</p><p>“O-kay!” you snapped, butting in before a skeleton war started in your hospital room, “Possibly sexy life saving magic, but not marriage, cool cool cool, but what-”</p><p>Dust reached out and put his hand over your face. “be quiet. do you feel that?”</p><p>Your frowned, going slightly cross eyed as you tried to look-</p><p>“don't look. feel.”</p><p>You huffed through your nose, but did as requested. You felt...bones. On your face. You felt cold, leeching in where his hand was touching. Your heartbeat, thumping against where bones pressed harder into skin. The soft buzz of magic, not a sensation, and not a sound, just a presence that came with being close to monsters, the natural magic of one simply existing.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Dust pulled his hand away slowly, browbone raised.</p><p>“It's on the inside...” you looked down, half expecting to see your soul glowing through your skin. It wasn't. A bit anticlimatic, but...you gently placed your hand over your heart. “It feels like...you.”</p><p>Dust choked, “d-don't just- you can't just say things like that!”</p><p>“Well what am I supposed to say? Congrats, your magic makes me doki doki?”</p><p>“i don't know what that means, but never say it again.” his phalanges rasped against his skull as he dropped his head in his hands, “listen, yes, that's my magic. i...when you have as much LoVe as i do...no, i'm going about this wrong.” He took a deep, uneeded breath, his gaze fixed firmly to the slight left of your head, “the more LoVe a monster has, the less capable they are at healing. LV taints the magic down to our very souls. at a certain point, a monster can't muster healing intent at all. i couldn't put you back together. but I could keep you alive,” he flicked a finger up towards the ceiling, a small murky purple bone crackling to life, balancing on the tip, “in fact, you could say i was dead determined to.”</p><p>Dust flicked the construct your way. You fumbled it, but scooped it off your lap after your miserable attempt at catching it. It was the same color as most of his magic. You had seen white before, and cyan once or twice, both crackled with red. Pure red was common on Bad Days. You turned the bone over in your hands. It stung at your fingers, not exactly damaging your HP, but not pleasant to touch either. It was the color of his usual magic. The color his joints burned in his fits, the color of his flush. The color cyan, mixed with dark red.</p><p>“I don't understand,” but you were starting to, and the concept was horrifying, “monsters can't have-”</p><p>“determination. My magic is not only tainted with LoVe, it's infected with determination. determination i forced into you. you wanted to live. you did all the work. i just helped keep your soul in one piece and your HP from dropping to total zero. you were in the decimals.”</p><p>“damn near...gave you everything he had,” Horror added helpfully.</p><p>“fuck you.”</p><p>“just sayin'...you were lookin' pretty ashy...when you got back.”</p><p>“To be fair, I was pretty dead,” you cut in, flipping through your paperwork, “There's nothing about elevated level of Determination in my test results though.”</p><p>Dust waved your soul scan in your face, “you probably used it all just keeping your HP above zero while your body was actively trying to die. DT kept you alive, long enough for the magic to be used as an energy source to pull you together.”</p><p>“And the blue?” You prompted.</p><p>“you strained out the determination, blue was all that was left.” he said with an easy shrug. You didn't buy it.</p><p>“Your blue,” you stressed, “is in my <em>soul</em>. I feel like that is a very big deal.”</p><p>Your friend shrugged again, his eyelights cutting to the side.</p><p>“it was broken,” said Horror, hefting himself back up to his feet. Dust bristled. “already in...bits...an' he reached out wi' his magic...and...” he made a clenching, squishing motion with his hand.</p><p>“yes, <em>thank you</em>, you can stop talking now,” Dust hissed.</p><p>“nah. you got...too much 'original' in you.” Horror paused, “too many secrets...too much <em>pride</em>.” He flashed you that eerie smile, “i don't have th'...patience for all th'...emotional gymnastics...not anymore.” he paused for an uncomfortably long time. So long you startled when he abruptly started again, “so dusty here just...just held you together, an' ...started feeding you magic, right through the soul,” he waggled his browbones suggestively, “'s inappropriate...'s <em>intimate. </em>He musta ...pushed through a lotta LV...to get back t' his original...color too.”</p><p>“Is it really that big of a thing?” you looked from Horror to Dust curiously.</p><p>“stars, you live in a 'verse where magic is accepted and mages roam free, how do you not know <em>any</em>thing?” Dust snapped.</p><p>You wilted, “Only mages get told that stuff. All humans learn basic Intent so nobody gets hurt, “”and get the birds-bees-and-bugs talk, but if you're not a mage, you don't get taught anything else. You don't need it.”</p><p>“don't mates-”</p><p>“Monsters don't want humans...like that. Just mages. We can't feel souls or magic the way they can, it'd be like asking a monster to chop off a limb to ask them for a relationship.”</p><p>“th' <em>fuck</em>?” you heard in stereo.</p><p>You shrugged. It wasn't a big deal really, just how it was. And it would be cruel to ask a monster to bond with someone who couldn't reciprocate in kind.</p><p>“i'd sleep....with a human.” Horror said pensively, “dunno if...i'd keep 'em.”</p><p>“Lovely, humans make the cut for the murderer.” You muttered. Dust was sitting just far away enough that you couldn't reach him and smother the widening smile, “Wait no, no! Shut up, this is serious, don't!”</p><p>The skeleton leaned forward and caught your weakly flailing hands, “i can see your<em> point</em>, but there's no need for such <em>cutting</em> remarks. I won't<em> axe</em> you to apologize, or at least take a <em>stab</em> at it, but it'd be <em>slice</em> of you to try.”</p><p>“Are you done?” you asked flatly.</p><p>“...edge.” said Horror.</p><p>Dust snapped his fingers, “knew I forgot one.”</p><p>“Delightful. Now, if the Numbskull Comedy Tour is over?” you yawned. Your room was slowly getting a soft 'fuzz' around your vision. Now that all the adrenaline had worn off and you had gotten your most urgent question answered, the fatigue that rode you since your admittance to the hospital was creeping in again.</p><p>You skeletal friend sighed, “i'm not going to apologise. i did what i did and i can't undo it. wouldn't if i could,” The red in his eyelights flared in the dim light of the hospital room, “i did it to keep you alive, i didn't mean it like <em>that</em>.”</p><p>“issat why...you're still holding her hand?” the larger monster rocked back an forth on his heels, “mmmmyup...completely not...like <em>that</em>.”</p><p>“Shut up, you chonk of bone,” You gripped Dust's hands harder before he could pull away, “and thank you, Dust. For saving me, and for visiting. Will you come back sometime? I'm in here for a while yet.”</p><p>“i don't know, you can't make me dinner like this,” your friend replied, but you could see his smile was teasing.</p><p>“We'll order in. Hospital protein shakes for everyone.”</p><p>“...that's not fucking real food.” snapped Horror.</p><p>You waved him off, hitting the 'recline' button on your bed, “You're not invited, be sad about it.”</p><p>Dust chuckled. Or maybe it was Horror. You couldn't keep your eyes open, and they sounded so similar.</p><p>One last thing drifted across your muddy brain, and you grabbed at Dust, “H-hey, Dust?”</p><p>“yeah?”</p><p>“I'm sorry. About your jacket. The uh, police have it. It's kind of ruined.”</p><p>Dust clicked his teeth, the skeletal equivalent of clicking your tongue, “don't be stupid. i'll get a new one from the couch.” He shook off your hand and shoved it under the covers.</p><p>You were out before he even blipped away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Moods:<br/>Horror: When even a Sans is tired of Sans' bullshit<br/>Dust: Feelings? What are those?<br/>Reader: AAAAAA</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's The Chapter.<br/>Reader is healed, but some things cut deeper. Dust has a single Feeling</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was going to wait and post this on Saturday. But I got excited, because I really, really like how this chapter came out, so you can have it now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Halls leading to halls leading to halls. You felt like you were in a labyrinth of suck. Wasn't there and up, or a down, or even a door in this place? You were cold. You were barefoot. Your jacket was wet with red. Even your steps were wet, a pitter-patter trail winding behind you. And in front of you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Had...had you gone a circle? You stopped. The footsteps behind you didn't.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>hey, d̸̢̛̜͉͎̳̯͕̜͙͎̝͇͍͍́̄̾̔̃̆́͜ö̶̦̭̝̚n̸̮̊̈̇̐͜'̸̨̮͎̞̜̇̀̒͂́̔̇́͂͐͘t̸̨̹͓͓̠͕͋̎́̽̈́̈́͛̚ ̵̜̫̺̳͂͂̐͆̈̄̊͝͠y̸͉̟͈͔͇̻͔͌̾̑ǫ̸͓̲̙͊̈́̉̽͑̿͠͝ȕ̶̡͕̮̬̳̬̝̻̲̝̯͑͝ͅ ̵̨̊͆̊̓̿̏͌̆̓̓̆͊̕͝͝k̵̢͚͍̩͓͚̲͂͒̊n̶̨̛̗̤̤̗̜̯̘̝͐̇͛̓͝͠o̸͙͓̝̱̖͚̓̋̈̽̄͝ͅw̴̹͖͚̫̩̽̿̅͛͋ ̸͇̫͍̪̺̟̗̣̟͖͚̹̮͖̉̊̊̈́̍̍̇̈́̈́͠h̶̘̙̗̜̎̂̅̈́̆͂o̵͍͎̪͇̣̠̝̺̱͑̎͌̎͋͂̚͠ͅẅ̴̧̡̢̨͉̫͚̼̩͎̜̤̪̙́̃͂͜ ̸̡̨̼͓͉̲̤͉͍̭̲̺̦̮͐̽̓̆̌̓̈́̌̑͝ẗ̶̢͈͖̦̠́o̵̧̡̜̦̩̝̻̭̪͋͂̑̔͆͜ͅ ̸̞̫̖̼̳̱̮̳͋͆̋̾͐̉̒͒̒͊̈̊̅͘̚g̸̨̥͙͎̬̹̦̯̣̏̏̄͆͗̌̏̒͝ͅr̵̡̧̥̯̣̯̟̱͍̳̫̲͎̈́͊̈̓̄̍̆̆͠e̴̛̛̪̳̼̤̜̫̱̯̺͑̂̈͂̑͐̌̉͑͝e̵̛̞̪̗̹͗͜ͅt̵͙̱̱̦͙̼̠͕̘̗̦̹̤͚͐̀̚ ̷̧̨͓̼̣̙̬̦͈͐̍̇̀̏̿a̸͈͒̑̈́͘ ̸̨̢̛̜̹̹̘͕͚͕̜̖͂̎̃̈̓̈͆̓̄́̕͝ͅṇ̷̨̛̼̝̟̻͉͚̭͎͕̤̬̆̂̽͌̚͘̚͜͠͠ę̸̨̝̱̹̟̗͇̬̘̲͉̽̒̃̓̇͐̌̚͠w̸̗͈̔̋̎̈́̽̑̅̕ ̴̹̍̊̀̍̑͝f̴̘̞͎̈̂̌ŗ̶̣̟̬͕̜̪͔̺̤̲̘̌̔͂̈́̄͒͆͛̽͊̂̕ͅi̵̢̤̱̰̱͍̐̿̌̇̆̈́ę̵̦̭̗͈̠͚̺̞͎̟̓̊͂̿̽̊́͝͝ͅͅn̸̡͔͕̩͝͠ḑ̷͖͚͙͎̣̀̑͗͊̊́̈͒̆͜?̸̥̺̲͚̬͇͙͐̄</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Ŷ̸̘̮̳̇̐ͅo̶̭̗̘͛̉̄̃̾ũ̵͖͛̽̊̋ ̵͇͚͙̮̦͗̎͊ͅt̶͖̼̽͗u̸̗͍͖͑̎̑͂̒̚ŗ̴̛͇̬̭̹̭̓͂̎͠n̶̲̥̯̜͔̊̌͋͛̇̚ê̶̛̺̭͖̕d̴̼͂̋ ̵̪͈̟̰͔͙̎̐̿͛̏̕à̵͎̺̜̱̈́͑̈̑̾r̵̜͓̖͐̉͝ỏ̴̦͇̖͔̝̦u̴̫̼͈̓n̶̜͎̾̒ḏ̴͚͔͙̄ͅ,̴͔͔̈́̐̄͊̾̾ͅ ̴̢̢̣̻̫̱̈́́̈́͐̕a̶͖̰̺͐̾n̴̡̝͓̗̉͊̈́̂͝ḍ̸̨͖͈͕̈́̇̃̀ ̷̻͈̯̦̪̂̿͒̕͠e̷͔͚̎̽͋̅̋ṽ̸̧͇̻͕̎̍̂e̷͈͎͗r̵̨͍̪̔́̽͘͠y̶̟̭̽͋̅͝t̵̰͒̇̍̿ḧ̸̠́̈́͌i̸͙̼̪͔͑͒̾n̵̼̺͙͖͚̊̂͒̓g̴͖̘͈͑͒͂̋́̈́ ̷͉͎̣͓̝̎͗͒̂̕w̶̭̹̾̓͑̒̔͑͜a̵͉̘͓̍̓͑̇́͝s̵̬̠͚͎͍̫͋̄͋́̑͠ ̷̺̘̿ͅb̴̭̬̦͈͊̃ļ̷̛̳̌͒͊͊ͅȧ̸̤̱̈́̐̓̋̾c̷̜̠̱̞̅̓̉͌k̷͉̘͔̓̕,̶͔̼̪͊́̓͝ ̵͖̹͈͚͉̔̊ḇ̴̭̠̹̗͖͒ļ̸̨̹̰̜̎͛̈́͒̄à̶̜̞͊̋c̴͔͚̗͎͛̔͘k̵͔̱͍̱͉̈́,̶̧̱̮̣͉̓ ̷̨͙̯̜̯̘̎b̸͚̪̈́̉͝l̷͖̫̦͍̖͂ͅä̶̩̤̻͕̬́̄̋̌̀c̷̫͕̻͊ḳ̴̡̳͂̒͆---</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see you've had visitors, my dear, my dear. And well outside visiting hours.”</p>
<p>“Mmfh mm?” you blinked blearily, struggling to make sense of the fact that 1) it was morning, 2) you were being spoken to, and 3) you were expected to be conscious. Daytime came way to early for you, no doubt in part due to your...visitors.</p>
<p>You at least had the decency to look sheepish from under your blanket, “Sorry. I wasn't exactly expecting anyone. They just sort of,” you searched for the right word, “happened.”</p>
<p>“I'm just glad someone came to see you,” they handed you your breakfast tray with one hand as the other three replaced your saline drip, “It was a little worrying that nobody had come to check in. Although,” a critical eye scanned the various read outs of everything you were hooked up to, “these guests don't have anything to do with these late-night spikes in heart rate, do they?”</p>
<p>You shrugged, appraising your breakfast. You had graduated to applesauce, how delightful, “They put the 'surprise' in surprise visits. Plus, I mean, nightmares, but that's nothing new.”</p>
<p>The nurse nodded sympathetically, “Have you given any thought to therapy yet? We employ several therapists, if you wanted a meet a few and find the right fit, right fit?”</p>
<p>“I could probably use it,” you admitted, critically eyeing a bowl of...soup maybe, “I'd like to be able to cry without it hurting first, if at all possible. I imagine therapy will have a lot of crying happening. Say, what is this, do you know?”</p>
<p>“Bone broth with ginger root. Please do not try to eat the lump of ginger, please, please.”</p>
<p>You grinned, “This is amazing. You know even know. This is my new favorite.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dust sighed. He wasn't really sure how he ended up here so soon. By all accounts, he should be keeping far away from you. Freshly collected EXP burned in his marrow, picked up from a newly created Flowerfellswap universe. New enough that if they could head off the human, they could turn the whole AU into another hub for Nightmare to feed on.</p>
<p>He was one, maybe two good kills away from another Level Of ViolencE. He could have hit that mark too, if he hadn't had his kill stolen by his emotionless copy. Killer was going to give him shit for days about his lapse.</p>
<p>Dust had thrown an off-hand comment out, though not without the sting of truth. He really hadn't seen a swap-papyrus show <em>that</em> much initiative so early in the game. After all, their human only had a scant few flowers growing from them, and Papyrus- <em>that </em>Papyrus, was fighting him tooth and bone to get the child to safety.</p>
<p>“<em>you'll understand when you find something worth protecting,”</em> that Papyrus had said.</p>
<p>And of course, like a numbskull, his thoughts had flickered to you. Small and washed out in that oversized hospital bed. Stitches and staples stuck in angry twisted skin, peeking out over the neck of that ridiculous hospital gown-</p>
<p>Then Killer was there, neatly cutting through that Papyrus's spine and with it, the last of his HP. No, it would be a while before Dust would live that down. Worse, now he had Killer's attention. Dust never hesitated.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It really was a shame that anyone with a Sans base code was, universally, kind of an idiot, which is how he found himself shortcutting into your hospital room the very next night after his first visit.</p>
<p>For the first several days of your hospitalization, he had managed to stay away, mollified with the knowledge that he would feel it if your soul shattered, and kept busy wreaking excessive amounts of havoc in whatever direction Nightmare pointed him.</p>
<p>It had also taken several whisper-hissed conversations outside the castle (and Nightmare's hearing range) with Horror to solidify that no, the larger skeleton wasn't going to say anything, but in return, Dust had to make a few promises.</p>
<p>He scowled, thinking back to one of said promises, sitting in his inventory. If he had known deciding to keep you was going to be so much trouble... Well. He would probably still do it, if he were honest with himself. Luckily, as a Sans, he wasn't inclined to be. Unluckily, as a Sans, he had a Papyrus to help him out.</p>
<p>“SO ARE YOU GOING TO WAKE HER UP, OR JUST STAND HERE UNTIL YOU DUST OF OLD AGE?”</p>
<p>Dust tried to keep his smile from straining. After dropping you off at the hospital, he had thrown himself into the void, back to deal with Horror. Not that much dealing had been done. He had been so tired, his magic barely keeping him strung together. His brother had been tapped out was well apparently, falling silent for three long, quiet days. Papyrus's return was...not unwelcome, no, never, he <em>loved</em> his brother. So, <em>so much</em>...</p>
<p>But maybe some privacy, bro?</p>
<p>Papyrus made a noise of indignation, “YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I DO YOU'LL HAVE TO MOVE FAST IF YOU WANT ANYONE TO EVEN PAUSE BEFORE USING HER FOR EXP. EITHER <em>TAKE</em> HER, OR KILL HER YOURSELF, LAZYBONES!”</p>
<p>Technically, you were already his. Dust admitted he skipped several steps, and while the situation was inadvertent, he found he wasn't at all displeased.</p>
<p>Killer was going to be a problem though. You needed to know.</p>
<p>“Hey there, bonehead,” your voice was thick with sleep and exhaustion as you blinked blearily awake and twisted, kicking with your feet to scoot over, “No couch in here, but plenty of bed. Don't make it weird though.”</p>
<p>Maybe...maybe Dust didn't have to tell you <em>right</em> now though.</p>
<p>He kicked off his slippers and shucked off his new-but-exactly-the-same jacket, “weird? us?”</p>
<p>You quirked a smile, but it felt hollow “I know, right?” your expression shifted into one of consternation, “Uh, you didn't bring Murders McGee this time, right?”</p>
<p>“You know I've tried to kill you too, right?” He plopped heavily onto the bed.</p>
<p>You groaned, pulling one of the horrible plastic pillows over your face, “I'm not having this conversation with you tonight, I'm too tired. Had an extra long healing session today,” you let him pull the pillow out of your hands, and Dust settled down next to you, raising a browbone as you rolled into him and flipped the covers over the both of you as you scooted down, “Hush, you're warm and I'm freezing.”</p>
<p>Dust supposed that made sense, especially with new EXP still settling into his magic. Oh, but you were very, very close to him now. This was probably a bad idea.</p>
<p>“Did you know Wheatie-Os aren't a thing here? I looked it up,” you said, plucking at the front of the shirt he gave you and giving him a brief but not entirely unwanted glance down the front. This a definitely a very bad idea.</p>
<p>“wait,” Dust frowned. Something wasn't right, “You still have...” he gestured briefly to your chest.</p>
<p>“Oh? Dust you perv,” you teased, sounding slightly more awake, but thankfully you kept going before Dust could say much of anything, “No, I get it. They actually finished healing everything up today and took out all the stitching, but...uhm...magic doesn't build muscle mass, so I'm still really flimsy, and it's...” you swallowed hard and pulled the front of your shirt down as far as it went without stretching the fabric, “They're called hypertrophic scars. It happens sometimes, the skin heals wrong. It's not anyone's fault it went like this, and I was going to scar anyways. It, uh, goes all the way down.”</p>
<p>You thumbed at the mark. The skin was obviously fresh, but weirdly soft and puffy, wrinkling under your finger.</p>
<p>Scars were not new to Dust. Most Sans' had at least<em> that one</em>. It had been a while since he had seen one on skin though. When was the last time he dusted an Undyne? Probably not since then. A red line rippled down your healed wound, looking almost like you were sewn shut with red embroidery.</p>
<p>“a scar just means you survived,” he offered offhandedly, (“USUALLY,” Papyrus helpfully added) but your face screwed up into a crooked frown, “does it still hurt?”</p>
<p>“Only my pride. And...I guess my appearance,” you said wetly before sucking in a deep breath. When you spoke again your voice was a little less wobbly, “Right, yes, it's ok. I mean, it's a good thing I wasn't terribly vain to start with, right? I look alright in turtlenecks too.”</p>
<p>Ah. That was it then. The 'wrongness' he had felt from you upon arrival was, quite literally, a lack of 'you'. You were devoid of the intent that usually bubbled around you like a cloud. You had, in your distress, withdrawn into yourself. Not that Dust was anyone to talk about the dangers of suppressing your own feelings, but the void coming from someone who was usually a veritable font of emotions left him unnerved., and almost...he had to pause to find the right word...angry, maybe?</p>
<p>His already agitated magic was thrumming in his marrow, demanding he provide whatever you needed. Like it or not, you were his human now, and tibia honest, he found the idea appealing. He had already declared your home as his territory, and you were just a natural extension of that. Dust already knew, several months ago, you were worth killing someone for, and if that would fix the problem now, he would gladly scoop up some EXP. <em>So,</em> he thought, looking at the way you hugged at the collar of <strike>his</strike> your shirt, <em>what were you worth now.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>you'll understand when you find something worth protecting.” </em>Shit. Okay. This was fine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“hey,” he pulled you closer, manhandling you into 'little spoon' position. You allowed it without complaint, looking only faintly confused as he let himself curl around you, “i'm gonna try something.”</p>
<p>“Is it going to be another kinky soul thing? Because I don't mind, but you have to tell me first,” you glanced back at him from over your shoulder. He rolled his eyelights.</p>
<p>His magic wanted something to do? Fine by him.</p>
<p>“heh. let me know if...you don't like it.”</p>
<p>Dust closed his sockets, and reached out with his magic.</p>
<p>“Ha! That wasn't exactly a denial, what are-oh.”</p>
<p>The magic he used patching your soul responded.</p>
<p>Dust could feel his magic, separate from him but very much still him, carefully securing each piece of your soul, acting as a conduit to keep it whole and functioning. Not a bond in the traditional sense, Dust noticed. There was no exchange of information or feelings between the two of you. It was almost one of the forcible claims he'd seen in the darker universes his boss enjoyed visiting, a tag of sorts, an unnatural implant. But your soul had accepted his magic on its' own, accepted his inadvertent claim, and upon his reaching out, allowed him in.</p>
<p>He offered what he could, a hesitant stream of <em>assurance/safety/protection </em>sent into the quiet of the culmination of your very being.</p>
<p>For a moment, there was no response. Had he pushed too hard? Or worse, was he unable to reach you at all?</p>
<p>Then it came. Confusion, slowly uncurling into his magic, followed by curious recognition. There you were.</p>
<p><em>Query/curious/c-nc--</em><em>rn</em>, he sent. The reply came slowly.</p>
<p><em>Shame</em> came first, along with a hazy impression of skin (a novelty for Dust) stitching itself together into a burning red line.</p>
<p><em>Fear</em> was next, twined with the idea of rejection/unwelcome and the sound of a breaking mirror.</p>
<p>The last was garbled: a stack of books, 'Trauma' in blazing red in the various titles. Something wet and sticky, pattering to a stone floor. A single red eyelight, burning in the dark. A living darkness that coiled inside shadows.</p>
<p>Dust didn't rally know what to do with that. Unfortunately, communicating like this meant as soon as a thought or feeling reached the proverbial surface, it could be potentially picked up and sent along. He was trying to keep everything as locked down as he could, since this was for you. Not about him. Plus, he reasoned, you probably didn't need a front row seat to his brother's crowing encouragement, or worse, that damn golden hall, that <em>kid</em>.</p>
<p>Steeling himself, he pushed along a little more <em>protection</em>. He could give that. He fucked up, but he won't again.</p>
<p><em>Safety</em>. Whatever you needed. Weapons, a security system, an armed guard, he would get it for you.</p>
<p><em>Assurance</em>. It's a promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh shit y'all! There it is!<br/>The alternate title for this is "Dust Figures Out 1/100th of His Shit" but I felt like that was too long.<br/>I am living for your theories in the comments.<br/>If you want to shout them directly at me, or shoot me a what-if (I love writing those), I do have a tumblr.<br/>I have no idea how to link things so here we go:  <a href="https://kaygee-doodles.tumblr.com/"> Trash's Tumblr</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Comfort Part of Hurt/Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You have a bad time. Dust does his best.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Character development for everyone!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dust stayed until the early sun peeked over the tops of the buildings, shortcutting out only once when the night nurse did their rounds. He left Horror's 'promise', a beat to hell thermos filled with some sort of tofu-chicken soup, on the stand by your bed. The extra food would honestly do you some good, and he was glad he didn't have to explain where it had come from. Though figuring out how to explain away your newly overstocked pantry and fridge would be a harder sell.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“I can't believe you forgot our anniversary.”</p><p>“unbelievable, we don't have an anniversary.”</p><p>“We totally do! It's, uh...what is today again?” The long stay at the hospital had warped your sense of time. Even after being considered 'healed' you had to stay two more days for 'observation' while they got you up to speed on eating actual food and making sure you were digesting everything (verdict, rich foods still gave you a stomachache and you couldn't each too much at once, but missing a quarter of your digestive system will do that).</p><p>“you are the dumbest human,” you skeleton friend sighed.</p><p>“Human?! I am your WIFE!” you declared dramatically, waving a handful of take out menus at him, “And we absolutely have an anniversary, which is why we get to order out today. Because it's special.”</p><p>“pretty sure i landed here in the fall, not...is it spring here? and you're not my wife.” Dust didn't even look up from playing on his phone.</p><p>“Ah-ha! So you admit we have an anniversary!”</p><p>“i think you're just tired of whatever is in the fridge.”</p><p>“What ISN'T in my fridge?” you groaned. While you were hesitantly thankful for the first thermos, apparently Horror's preferred method of penance was food. Lots and lots of food.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“<em>What if it's poison?” You lifted the lid on one of the containers skeptically. It looked surprisingly normal.</em></p><p>“<em>nah. horror doesn't fuck around with food. it's not my story to tell, but the short version is food was scarce where he came from,” Dust peeked over your shoulder to take in the completely reorganized refrigerator, everything carefully sealed, labeled in thin, spindly capitals, and tetris-ed just so to maximize the amount of food-per-square-inch.</em></p><p>“<em>So killing me is fine, but starving me isn't?” you grumbled, peeling off the sticky note on top of a foil tin. (CHICKEN SCAMPI PAN – REMOVE TOP, BAKE AT 350 DEGREES FOR 15 MINUTES. ADD CHEESE ((BOTTOM DRAWER, LEFT, BLUE BAG)) TO TASTE!!)</em></p><p>“<em>basically. plus, y'know, the soul thing now. he wouldn't dare”</em></p><p>
  <em>You rolled your eyes as you set the oven to pre-heat, “Which I still have no idea how to explain to anyone, ever.”</em>
</p><p>“<em>are you often pulled into encounters at the grocery store?” Dust snarked, pulling out two bottles of Fire-Bright Brew, a local monster beer Dust had taken a liking to.</em></p><p>“<em>No, but my boss is weirdly perceptive for someone who lets people call him King Fluffybuns.”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>After that, Dust had emphatically demanded you tell him everything you could think of about your universe so you would stop 'dropping info bombs' on his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>So you ended up telling him about being the bottom of the proverbial totem pole of the Royal PR Team and what that meant (mostly approving social media posts from the technologically inept king and the Angel of the Underground, Frisk themselves). It wasn't glamorous but it paid the bills and you could do it from home while you relearned how to everything. It turned out core muscles are kind of important.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Afterwards, Dust demanded more information about your universe. Not knowing where to start, you had sarcastically begun to list all the known condiments of your universe, just in case Dust was missing out on anything. As it turned out, in between attempted smotherings it was learned that he had never encountered Siracha before.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Sushi. I waaaant. Sushi. There is no sushi in the fridge,” you had pared down the stack of to-go menus.</p><p>“you might die if you try to eat wasabi right now,” Dust pretended to think for a moment, “so go for it.”</p><p>You wrinkled your nose, “Ugh, how dare you look out for my best interests.”</p><p>“somebody has to, you'd be dead otherwise...oh <em>wait</em>.”</p><p>You waved him off and opened the delivery app.</p><p>“No wasabi or ginger then, I'll be boring and stick with california rolls and tuna,” you faked a sniffle, “I'll miss you, Spicy Super Pain Roll Plus.”</p><p>“no no, order it. i'll eat it in front of you and let you know what you're missing.”</p><p>“I want a divorce.”</p><p>“i will throw you into the CORE.”</p><p>If Dusts' brand of 'friendship' was weird, this new character arc of actively trying to care for you was even stranger.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>You had been standing on the edge of your kitchen for either a minute or an hour. You were hungry. You were tired. You had just gotten back from the hospital to find that after the police were done with their picture taking and crime scene investigating and whatever else they did, they had just...left. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Holes in the walls and dust on the carpet. A broken couch. A puddle of dried blood in your kitchen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You couldn't move the couch to fix it's leg. You weren't sure you could make it back down to the bottom floor, much less catch a bus to get plaster for the walls. You didn't even know where your vacuum was. You...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Turned away from the kitchen. You'd deal with it tomorrow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As it turned out, you didn't need to. You were shocked to discover the next morning (or noon, but that wasn't anyone business) that your apartment was...fixed? Sort of. There was still a definite dent in the wall near the door, but the holes had been patched, and the floor was...maybe not professionally cleaned but at least vacuumed. Your fishtank was considerably less green than before, though the fish were still sparse due to starvation and probable cannibalism. The kitchen was...hmm. There was a Bless this Mess mat that you didn't remember owning before, rolled over but not completely hiding a distinct rusty, puddle shaped stain in the linoleum.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>On the bar, your phone was blinking, leaned up against a bag of Cheese Doodles. One new text.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>DustyGremlin: u sleep thu anything </em>
</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“<em>budge up, _____.” </em></p><p>
  <em>A voice, coupled with an insistent tapping on your forehead startled you awake, already flailing and reaching for the nearest projectile. Warm, skeletal hands grabbed your wrists as mismatched eyelights peered down at you. You huffed as all the adrenaline oozed out of you. Those red and cyan lights should not be as comforting as they had become. </em>
</p><p>“<em>c'mon, you gonna move or am i banished to the floor again?”</em></p><p>“<em>Ugh, get in then. Too tired to drag everything out of the closet for you.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust snorted, burrowing under your sheets. It was ok, you didn't believe you either.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After your little heart to heart (soul to soul?) in the hospital, your skeletal companion had become almost handsy, tucking you against him every time you were still long enough instead of just 'happening' to take a nap slumped against you. His phalanges never “wandered” anywhere inappropriate, though your legs always ended up tangled with his as you both fought for space and covers in your sleep. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I'm sorry, did you say his name was Killer?”</em></p><p>“<em>that is not the most important thing in what i just said. why is that the only thing you took away from this conversation?”</em></p><p>“<em>Because you all have TERRIBLE names! It's like if I went around calling myself Naptime or High Cholesterol.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust sighed, looking like he couldn't decide between taking a nap of his own, or strangling you, “just bring me your stars-damned bat.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You rolled your eyes but did as he asked. You weren't sure what good it would do you, really, not if Horror or this new guy showed up. In fact, the only time you had ever given a thought to it was the very first time Dust crash landed in your living room, and had he been fighting-fit, you wouldn't have stood a chance.</em>
</p><p>“<em>My bat, good sir,” you waggled the grip of it in his face upon your return.</em></p><p>“<em>Alright, let me take a swing at this,” he flipped it around in his hands, examining it critically. For what, you weren't sure, but it was deemed suitable for whatever Dust had planned.</em></p><p>
  <em>Which apparently a very small light show. Holding both ends, a crackle of red shot from Dust's hands, bouncing back and forth over the metal, slowly dispersing. More bursts followed, red spikes of lighting jumping and coiling as the metal seemed to whine under the onslaught. There were flickers of blue, here and there, but short lived and small compared to the crimson that was slowly discoloring the aluminum. He paused a few times, letting the glow fade and looking the whole thing over again before smothering it with his magic again.</em>
</p><p>“<em>here,” the skeleton huffed when he finally deemed it worthy and pushed it back into your hands.</em></p><p>
  <em>It was uncomfortably warm, and seemed hum softly in your hands</em>
</p><p>“<em>Um. Thanks?”</em></p><p>“<em>keep it in your inventory, always. it'll come when needed.” Dust seemed out of breath. Odd, what good was oxygen to a skeleton? “won't make it a fair fight, but it gives you a chance.”</em></p><p>“<em>To stall until you come save your damsel in distress?” you cooed playfully.</em></p><p>“<em>more like my hell-raising human, but basically.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Aw. You decided you liked that lilac color on him.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It was only a matter of time, you supposed. Still, it felt a little early to you. Or a little late. Was there a timeline for getting your shit together after dying? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was going to be a bad day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You had woken up all wrong, nightmares of your organs plopping out mixed with the 'you forgot about a class all semester' dreams clinging to you like tar as you stumbled out of bed. Your shower didn't help, phantom pain bouncing around as you moved. You scar was all you could really see as you scrubbed yourself down, its' coloration so starkly different than the rest of you, it caught your attention anytime you looked remotely down. It was...you were...you resisted the urge to scratch at it. You wanted to pull it off your body, unravel it from you like the weird bunched up thread it looked like.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You stood in the shower until the water ran cold, and maybe a little while longer if your shivers were anything to go by when you finally stepped out. It was fine. You dug out one of the Couch Jackets from your closet and pulled it on. If you zipped it up all the way, it would keep you warm and hide your chest from...well, yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You spared a glance towards the kitchen. You should get breakfast, but-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The linoleum was cold<strike> underneath you, sharp warmth spilling</strike> under your feet, but that was fine. You were fine. You could just warm something up in the microwave, something easy, so your stomach wouldn't <strike>fall out, you could feel your insides moving as you were picked up</strike> hurt afterwards.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You could always grab something later.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You went back to your bed and just stayed there, hunched over in a little wad of woe, miserably scrolling through reddit without really seeing any of the posts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You hurt. You shouldn't, everything was healed. All of your inside meat was stitched and trimmed and crammed back into your other, less inside meat. You soul was...at the very least all together. You were still here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>FWUMP</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Your scream choked and died in the back of your mouth, leaving you to make some unholy infant-Godzilla noise as darkness descended around you.</em>
</p><p>“<em>oh good, that worked.”</em></p><p>
  <em>You pushed off the mass of pillows and blankets that had been dumped on you, glowering at Dust on instinct as he kicked off his slippers.</em>
</p><p>“<em>nice look, by the way,” he plucked at the shoulder of your Couch Jacket, “though the lack of pants is new.”</em></p><p>
  <em>You felt your ears heat up in embarrassment. You didn't really plan on going anywhere or having visitors.</em>
</p><p>“<em>My house is a pants-optional zone,” you grumbled, half-heartedly swatting at your friend.</em></p><p>“<em>and a brain-optional zone. i've been trying to get your attention for five minutes.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Had he? You must have completely zoned out. </em>
</p><p>“<em>S-sorry, it's just been a...a really bad day,” curiously, you looked around as Dust continued to...build? “I haven't been sleeping well or,” you let yourself be shifted to the middle of the bed as several rolled up blankets were wedged in a braid formation next to you, “feeling well or,” Dust tipped you forward, wedging pillows from who-knows where in a V-shaped pile behind you, “or..or...what on earth are you doing?”</em></p><p>
  <em>For a moment you weren't sure he was going to answer as he became suddenly intent on tucking your thickest winter blanket over and through the pillow pile to make a sort of cave.</em>
</p><p>“<em>making a fort,” Dust said, as though it was obvious.</em></p><p>
  <em>You looked around you. It was different than the ones you made, less tent-structure and twinkle lights and more secret hidey hole meets a closet. Your closet, specifically, though you certainly didn't recognize some of the blankets Dust had built the walls out of. Cheese doodles, a kitchen mat, now this. Was he just bringing random shit to your apartment now? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>At least it was useful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though you were feeling particularly useless at the moment, letting Dust nudge you half-under the shallow alcove he had built as he crawled in himself. Your laptop had found its' way onto the bed, screen up and waiting for your password as Dust rummaged in his inventory.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Uh, maybe I should put on pants?” you offered, suddenly acutely aware of just how close his pelvis was to yours as he shuffled around to sit behind you.</em></p><p>“<em>nope.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Well. Okay then.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A now recognizable thermos was pressed into your hands, no doubt another, for lack of a better word, gift, from Horror.</em>
</p><p>“<em>So what is it this time? 'I'm Sorry Stew'? 'Penitence Pasta?' 'I'm a Murderer Mashed Potatoes?'” You weren't really much for eating in bed...but screw it. You unscrewed the cap, steam softly fluffing out as you pulled off the cup and upcapped the bottle, “Oh. Literally Chicken Soup for the Soul.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Dust made an inquisitive noise as he peeked over your shoulder.</em>
</p><p>“<em>It's a popular book series here, mostly feel-good stories to give you the warm fuzzies. Only, you know, this is actual chicken noodle soup and is probably tastes a lot better.”</em></p><p>“<em>just eat it all so horror gets off my ass about it.”</em></p><p>
  <em>That wasn't going to be a problem. Unfortunately for your attempts to sustain your ire towards the massive skeleton, his food was delicious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You shared the soup. You watched terrible, terrible reality shows. You barely noticed as Dust slowly wrapped himself around you, all bones and soft, humming magic alongside the blankets that were creeping over the both of you as horrible kitchens and terrible food choices played on the screen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were warm. Full. Not alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You finally slept without dreams, save for the sound of distant, but persistent, thunder.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“OK, sushi was a mistake,” you mumbled into the (freshly repaired) couch cushions. Dust patted your head awkwardly, “I'm going to puke. Do skeletons puke? Do you know what puking is?”</p><p>Dust snorted, “yes, it's spoiled magic and it comes out of every hole in our face.”</p><p>“Even eye sockets?”</p><p>“mostly eye sockets.”</p><p>“Uuurgh,” you did not need that mental image right now.</p><p>“you're the one who stole a bite of that murder-spice roll.”</p><p>“A single bite!”</p><p>“Don't humans have medication for that?”</p><p>Oh. Right. Whatever would you do without your skeleton?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have had a terrible week, so I have comforted myself with some very self-serving fluff. The good news is, it's also for you guys! Sharing is caring (Fingers crossed Dust remembers that for later).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Visitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alternative Title: Horror Cops a Feel, Dust Blows a Gasket</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise! It's a new chapter! I've been on a roll lately and don't really feel the need to keep a finished chapter to myself.<br/>Also, I'd like to thank you all for all the lovely and kind words in the comments, they have warmed the cockles of my grumpy little heart.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No, absolutely not.”</p><p>“he's kind of hung up on it, and for a guy who can't remember which bedroom is his, that's pretty impressive.”</p><p>You crossed your arms and glowered, “I've been eating his stupid food, why isn't that enough?”</p><p>Dust scrubbed at his face, “because a famine survivor thinks he's responsible for you almost starving to death.”</p><p>“And any other death would be fine then? Just take a picture with your phone or something and show him!”</p><p>“i can delete a message. horror won't so he can remind himself, and if killer gets nosy...”</p><p>“He doesn't have a nose. Neither do you. Pretty sure that's a skeleton thing.”</p><p>Dust took a long, deep breath, his sockets closed as he muttered to himself. You couldn't quite make it out, something about paper-crafts.</p><p>“you are evading the subject.”</p><p>“I learned from the best,” you grinned cheekily, tip-tapping away on your laptop. You were glad you got to work from home for a few weeks more, but the inevitable 'looking presentable' and 'real pants' conditions of going into the office loomed in the distance. Gross.</p><p>“would you take a bribe?” Dust offered.</p><p>“You know I would, but make it good,” you demanded.</p><p>“i'll pay for takeout for a week.”</p><p>“A month.”</p><p>“deal.”<br/>The two of you shook on it.</p><p>Wait a second.</p><p>“Hold up, you have <em>money</em>?”</p><p>Dust looked at you, his grin almost earhole to earhole, “gold is the common currency pretty much everywhere.”</p><p>“I!!! Have been paying for EVERYTHING! FOR ALL THIS TIME!”</p><p>Dust cackled, smoothly dodging your hands as you slapped at him wildly.</p><p>“you never asked!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Horror couldn't remember the last time he felt so relieved.</p><p>Well, he did, sort of. Once, after he had assured his brothers safety and food supply, he had felt like this. Only...moreso then than now.</p><p>His semi-permanent smile faded slightly as he looked you over. You were still thinner than he would like. He couldn't remember what you looked like before, when you were whole and healthy, just a fleeting impression of a woman, scared but defiant. It was all overshadowed by the harsh lights of a hospital. Thin and sallow, with dark shadows under your eyes and under your cheek bones. A ghost from his past, from before Nightmare had found him. Starvation. Malnutrition. Overly bright eyes in sunken sockets. Too much skeleton for something with skin.</p><p>And Dust had claimed you as his own. It would cause problems. The very problems he was trying to prevent in the first place. He hadn't anticipated his friend was already so attached.</p><p>Horror did, at least, understand it. Especially now, as you stood there, brows furrowed and hands on your hips. You didn't have an aura of killing intent around you, like he had half-expected, but you were clearly willing to throw down. Resilient. He liked that in a...well...anyways...</p><p>If it couldn't be fixed by the business end of his axe, then an alternate solution would have to be found. Horror resisted the urge to check the notes of his phone. If he had thought of anything it would be in there.</p><p>But first...?</p><p>Uh...</p><p>...</p><p>Oh. The human.</p><p><em>Dust's</em> human, he corrected himself.</p><p>You were still not as recovered as he had hoped. Your shirt hung a little too loose, your edges a bit too pointy for his liking, especially around the shoulders and elbows. Your ribs were...acceptable. The floating ribs were cushioned by fat again, though he didn't like how sharp your hipbones were-</p><p>“UH! FUCKING WHAT?”</p><p>Dust had grabbed his arm, “pretty sure that stuff's private here too, bud.”</p><p>Horror blinked slowly, and looked at you.</p><p>You had frozen, leaning as far away as you would without toppling over, though you were partially supported by Horror's own hands, one wrapped around your rib cage, the other around your hip. One of your <em>(teensy tiny)</em> hands was planted firmly on the middle of his forehead, fingers angled away from his crack even as you shoved at him.</p><p>“Murdery and handsy. You have horrible taste in friends.” you said, presumably to Dust as the smaller skeleton pulled Horror out of arms reach.</p><p>Horror felt his face grow warm. He hadn't really meant to...</p><p>“eheheheh, sorry...s'just...you're eatin'. that's....real good.” Oh stars this was awkward. Horror literally couldn't remember the last time he talked to anyone that wasn't some form of himself or his brother.</p><p>“Uh. Yeah. I'd say thanks for the food, but...um...” you crossed your arms defensively. Your gaze kept flicking from him to Dust, who had positioned himself between you and the larger skeleton. You stuck close.</p><p>Horror didn't blame you, in fact he was fairly surprised he wasn't greeted with angry shouting and screaming. That was usually the standard when humans saw him, and he had certainly taken a swing at you before.</p><p>“right, right. that's...fair.”</p><p>Tension was still rolling off you in thick waves as you kept Dust as your living shield. Maybe you'd calm down if he...huh. What did calm down humans? Maybe if he were smaller. The best he could do for that is sit on the floor.</p><p>“m'glad though,” he said as he sat, “dusty an' I had a....a chat.” A knock-down, drag-out “chat” that had bounced the both of them across the halls of the castle they called home, “i get wanting to...to keep a good thing...not many of those...for us.” His fingers hooked into his dead socket, “good things are...dangerous. for us. our boss...eats feelings. the bad ones,” Horror tugged, pain bouncing along the inside of his skull. He wasn't sure he was explaining this quite right, “from us...sometimes. he'll notice if...if we change.”</p><p>“And that's bad?” You still looked worried, but a different kind of worried as you twisted your hands together.</p><p>“yup.” Horror wasn't up for explaining why. Stars, he was tired. Too much talking, and he was struggling to remember everything he had wanted to say.</p><p>Thankfully, Dust took mercy on him.</p><p>“his name is nightmare. he's a sans-type like us, but also something <em>more</em>. something of what you'd call a demi-god. a guardian of negativity. 'sans' is just his base code.”</p><p>“That makes sense.” Both Horror and Dust looked at you quizzically, “Dust, you are the saddest of sacks. Horror you...you have a hole in your head and you're yanking around your socket like it insulted your mother. It's no wonder he picked you guys up,” your shoulders dropped from their defensive hunch as you sighed.</p><p>Dust planted his face into his hands, clearly a well practiced movement, “why do you just accept these things?”</p><p>“I didn't exactly accept getting killed, I'm still not very cool with it. But this?” You waved your hand expressively, “This is so weird I don't even know how to parse it. Between the two of you, I am completely out of fucks to give. No outrage to scream. No feels to dump. I'll let you know if I find any, but my best friend is a murderer who fell out of an invisible hole in my ceiling. I died and got back up through the power of anime bullshit - don't start Dust – and I'm sure one day I'll discover the true treasure was the friendships I made along the way. So really, what's another weird ass skeleton in this Halloween Parade that is my life.”</p><p>“that...sounded like...feelings.” Horror would be the first to admit social cues slid past him fairly unnoticed, but that was, at the very least, one whole feeling.</p><p>Dust let you shove him as he laughed, but you were smiling too. Your attention turned back to Horror and he straightened</p><p>“So, is that all you wanted, orrrrr?”</p><p>For now, Horror thought. He'd want to come back later, to make sure you were...he wasn't sure. Healthier? Heavier? Happier? Safe?</p><p>Safe! That's right!</p><p>“jus' one more...one more thing,” Horror's inventory was greatly diminished when his head was split open, but he had made extra sure that this had made it into a slot before he left, “i...made it myself.”</p><p>He slid the small box across the floor to your feet.</p><p>You kept an eye on him as you bent to get it. Smart girl.</p><p>As you popped the lid of, the smell of fresh chocolate filled the room.</p><p>Cooking was an art, but baking was a science. Horror still had enough 'Sans' in him to enjoy it. Recipes and timers to keep him on track, notes in the margin to mark mistakes and improvements.</p><p>You eyed the container, distrusting but intrigued, “Uh, thanks. Is this a lava cake? Should I microwave it?”</p><p>Dust glanced into the tupperware, his sockets blacking out, “what the hell, horror.”</p><p>“So I should not eat this?” you asked.</p><p>Horror spoke over you, “'s better...if it's two. safer... we can-”</p><p>“I wouldn't say no to two of these, I'll be honest-”</p><p>“fuck safer, you can't just go and-_____ don't eat that.” the smaller skeleton snapped.</p><p>You looked up from the dishwasher, where you were hunting down a clean fork, “Is this finally the poisoned one? Is it murder time again?...should I get my bat?”</p><p>“'s a culture thing...from my 'verse.”</p><p>“it's a goddamned <em>marriage proposal</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. What is the Return Time on Feelings?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You eat cake. That's all. Nothing else.<br/>Honestly you could probably skip this chapter.<br/>(Please don't though I worked hard on it)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, what? Are you serious?” you turned from Dust to Horror, “Are <em>you</em> serious?”</p><p>The larger skeleton nodded, as solemn as you'd ever seen a Sans, as Dust snarled wordlessly.</p><p>You considered the cake in your hands as the room filled with ambient, angry magic. The static feeling made the hairs on the back on your neck stand up and your instincts scream DANGER. But at the same time. This cake.</p><p>“Ok, so,” you spoke up, startling the two skeletons out of their staring contest, “Horror, I have seen you exactly three times, including right this instant. The first time I met you, you broke into my house, cut me in half, and made my insides outsides.” You slid the cake onto a plate and into the microwave, “For this reason amongst many, I cannot accept your proposal,” you paused, “There isn't like, a ring in here that's going to destroy my microwave, right?” With Horror's negative confirmation, you hit the 30 second button and the machine whirred to life, “Excellent. Now, that in mind, I will accept the cake as a sincere and earnest apology, and will eat it on the terms of <em>my</em> culture in <em>this</em> universe, which is 'Fuck Yeah, Cake.'”</p><p>Horror's lone eye expanded in delight as Dust scoffed.</p><p>“Un-fucking-believable,” the smaller, saltier skeleton as you pulled your prize out of the microwave and went for some milk.</p><p>“I think you're just upset you didn't get any cake. Or did you want to marry Horror? Shall I share my cake?” You beamed under Dust's glower, popping a delicious, chocolatey bite into your mouth.</p><p>Oh. Wow. The cake was amazing. The right amount of dense and fluffy, the chocolate shell of icing on the top cracking just so to let the molten center ooze out alongside a fluff of steam after that first stab. Oh, you were going to regret this in an hour or two, there was no way food this rich wasn't going set your stomach off. Worth it though. You took another bite. So, so worth it. Mmm...</p><p>“are you going to make that noise the entire time you eat?”</p><p>You opened one eye to find Horror and Dust watching you intently, red and lilac dusted over their cheekbones.</p><p>“I might,” you answered, coming up for air, “or I might run away and marry the cake. Are you two going to watch me like creepers the entire time I eat?”</p><p>“...uh huh-oof!” Horror grunted as Dust fired a bone into the larger skeleton's ribs.</p><p>You rolled your eyes as Horror gave Dust a shove, a little harder than he probably should. The smaller monster must have known it was coming though, he barely budged.</p><p>“Ok, ok, break it up you two,” Why did you feel like you were going to be saying that a lot in the near future? “We're going to have to talk about this like responsible adults, apparently.”</p><p>The two skeletons looked at you blankly. You supposed 'irresponsibly' was also turning out to be a 'sans' trait.</p><p>You sighed. Dust seemed to take the proposal as a personal offense, while Horror had taken no offense with you changing the terms and conditions of the cake. You were sure it had something to do with Dust's patch job on your soul and his increase in appearances. And while Horror's reason for the attack didn't make it okay, he at least <em>had</em> a reason, and you were willing to believe his remorse and desire to make amends was real. But marriage felt like a big of a leap just for an apology. Is that why Dust was so mad? Ugh, you were thinking in circles and getting nowhere.</p><p>You sighed again, a little more weary than before. Half the cake was gone and you still hadn't come to any conclusions.</p><p><em>Well</em>, this was your apartment, you weren't just going to stand there eating cake like a heathen. You looped your arm around Dust's, dragging him along to keep between you and Horror as you headed for the couch. Just because you didn't see an axe didn't mean he didn't have an axe.</p><p>“Now then,” you said finally, once you had settled in and made sure the couch wasn't about to spit anything out at you, “Let's have a chat, because apparently everyone in this room is in unspecified danger, and I like being alive. I'd also like Dust to be alive...” you glanced at Horror, who was still sitting on the floor and watching you eat with that one massive, staring eye, “Eeeh, you're on thin ice.”</p><p>Dust squeezed your arm tighter, pulling you closer to him while not meeting your gaze. You had tucked yourself into his side more than once; his ambient magic trapped under his shirt always had a plushy 'give' to it that let you slot against his 'negative space' where he lacked flesh and muscle. This time though, you felt that magic shift, static washing across your side, leaving an odd warmth behind. You silently added that to your 'new weird shit to deal with' list. It was quickly becoming a long list.</p><p>“I guess I'll get this started,” you said, after a pause of no one saying anything, “Does anyone want to explain why I am being proposed to by cake? Not that cake isn't an excellent way to propose, but marriage to my murderer feels a bit...fucky.”</p><p>“dusts' <em>attachment,</em>” Horror stressed the word with a widening smile, “wasn't...obvious. is now...if you had...another,” his cheeks were taking on a pretty shade of muddy red, “it would double...your protection.”</p><p>“anyone coming to visit would notice, and have to decide if pissing the both of us off would be worth it. anyone with a brain would think twice,” Dust added with a scowl. He clearly hated the idea, “it <em>might </em>even make killer and nightmare pause.”</p><p>“You don't seem to think it's a good idea,” you swayed back and forth, emphasizing his arm that was warped tight around yours.</p><p>“it might not even work, there's no <em>point</em>-”</p><p>“'s possessive.” Horror rumbled from the floor, “all sans' are....an' i didn't ask...he found you first...so...i should've...but he would've said...no...but he also...<em>wasn't doing anything.</em>”</p><p>Dust's jaw dropped, but you hushed him before he could get out whatever rebuttal he was planning. In the silence, you ruminated over another bite of cake.</p><p>“Marriage seems like a bit much for that,” you said finally, “I'm not even <em>really</em> married to Dust, as much as I joke. It's just that with the weird soul-glue we're just kind of...” you gestured from yourself to him, with your fork “Entangled?” “engaged.”</p><p>You slowly turned your head to stare at Dust.</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“yup.”</p><p>“And you give me garbage about not telling you things?! Really?? You want to expound on that any, at all? Or do I need to ask Horror, who has a better track record of answering me than you do already.”</p><p>You could almost hear Dust's teeth grinding for a moment, “you have an imprint of my magic. truthfully you have a more than an imprint, it only takes a wisp of another monster's magic, but-”</p><p>“you took...<em>everything</em>...he gave you,” Horror cut in, waggling his browbones.</p><p>“Please don't say it like that,” you could feel your face turning red.</p><p>“actually, don't say anything at all. ever again.” Dust turned sharply where he sat, blocking Horror from view to look at you directly, “a lot of darker universes use it to announce ownership, like a neon 'property of' sign. especially since it's one-sided.” He paused, clearly uncomfortable as purple slowly crawled over the entirety of his skull.</p><p>“Okaaay, but...you're having a lot of trouble maintaining your resting-bitch-facebones...and you <em>just</em> said we were engaged.”</p><p>“heh,” he reached up and tugged his hood down further, hiding his eyes, “that's the other interpretation. in a life kinder than mine, if you could return the imprint, it'd mean, uh, we were going public with a relationship and intended to make it permanent.”</p><p>“Oh,” you weren't sure why you felt disappointed, “but you didn't mean any of that. You just wanted me alive and sort of flooded me on accident? And left a chunk behind to hold my soul together?”</p><p>Dust was silent. Still. He had yet to let you go, and his grip on your arm was becoming painful. Did finger bones creak or was that his jaw?</p><p>You leaned forward, bending uncomfortably to peek under Dust's hood. You wanted him to talk to you. To look at you, for once, when telling the straightforward truth. Your free hand lifted the edge of his hood, just slightly.</p><p>His lights were bright, burning form somewhere deep inside his skull, but had shrunken to small pips that flickered like a matchstick flame.</p><p>“not on accident. you accepted my magic,” his voice, always low, was the quietest you had ever heard. You had to strain a little to hear, “i decided to keep you. you decided to stay. nobody stays. how could i not give you anything you wanted?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Oh jeez. <em>Oh wow</em>. He was purple. You were red. This was fine.</p><p>“You...you absolute <em>ass</em>,” you hissed, bringing up your free hand to smack him roughly about his head and shoulders, “You can't just-! How dare you-! What do I even say to that?”</p><p>“you wanted an answer. there it is,” Dust mumbled, letting you smack at him while slowly sinking into his hoodie, as if to hide, “it doesn't change anything, if you want.”</p><p>“What about what you want?” You weren't sure why you were whispering, but it felt appropriate. You attempted mauling had ceased, leaving you grabbed on to the front of his jacket.</p><p>“i want you to want to stay. with me.”</p><p>Was it hot in here? You swallowed the tightness in your throat.</p><p>“A-actually, this is <em>my </em>apartment, I'm pretty sure you're staying with <em>me</em>.”</p><p>Dust's eyelights had returned to normal size, cyan burning bright as his single red ring had thinned to a sliver, “is that an invitation?”</p><p>“Yeah. I think I can live with that.”</p><p> </p><p>“...you're supposed...to smooch now.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>FINALLY! And it only took 22 chapters to get that stick out of Dusts' coccyx.<br/>Next chapter, we're going to start earning that E rating.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. 'A New Paradigm' Sounds Like an MLM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kiss. Ghosts. Rules. Dream.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was getting kind of long, and this was the best place to cut it. On the bright side, the next chapter is going to be out pretty soon, assuming I don't get hit by a truck or anything. I'd apologize for the semi-cliffhanger, but if you've read this far into the story you know I'm absolutely not sorry, please suffer for my amusement.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know what? <em>Fine!</em>”</p><p>You surged forwards at Horror's goading, grabbing Dust's cheekbones.</p><p>“eh?!”</p><p>Dust pulled back on instinct, but not far enough. It was easy to stretch those extra few inches, pressing your lips to Dust's forehead with an overdramatic “MWAH!”</p><p>You let go and sat back, trying to resist the urge to hide. In your room, under the couch, hell, you would crawl into Dust's jacket and hide in there with him if it were feasible. Though that would probably do nothing to curb the shit-eating grin Horror was sporting at the moment.</p><p>If you blushed any harder, you might turn as purple as Dust was. Then die of a brain aneurysm.</p><p>“Happy now? I'm even engaged, just not to you,” you snapped at Horror, but your fluster took a lot of the bite out of your words.</p><p>“...could be...with both of us,” Horror shrugged, “just gonna....leave that on...the table.” he rapped his knuckles against the coffee table he was leaning on, trying to see around Dust's body-block position. The smaller skeleton's expression soured, the bones shifting from 'someone threw a brick at my face' to 'someone just shoved an entire onion in my mouth'. Ugh, not this again.</p><p>“Nope,” you put your hand up in a 'stop' motion, “That is an entirely whole different thing that I'm just not touching today.”</p><p>“...but-”</p><p>“Nope! I have had a <em>day</em>. A whole-ass day crammed into less than two hours. I didn't even have a plan for how this was going to go and it still didn't go according to plan. I've had feelings, I've had cake, I have a...a <em>bone</em>friend now that I've apparently had for a while <em>but nobody told me</em> and just skirted around the subject, hoping I'd figure it out and forgetting I am a whole-ass idiot? Who is set to be...be bondmates with a no-ass idiot!” You finished your declaration with a swat at your, actually <em>your,</em> skeleton, “So I feel like that's enough for today, and I reject any and every other weird thing that tries to happen today.”</p><p>“eheheheh, <em>bone</em>friend,” Horror chortled, apparently ignoring everything else you had said.</p><p>“<em>oh my god...</em>” Dust hissed, and you looked at him in alarm, “<em>bone</em>friend, why the fuck didn't I think of that?”</p><p>You relaxed into the couch, “Have you really been trying to find the perfect pun to tell me the whole truth with? No no, don't answer. I know the answer is yes.” You kicked your feet up onto Dust's lap as you flopped backward to take up most of the couch, “I'm still not sure how I feel about the part where nobody told me anything about this,” you opined to the ceiling.</p><p>Dust's hands settled uncertainly on your shins, his fingers tracing your bones thoughtfully, “i've never spent much time in any one universe,” he said finally, “never really cared how customs were different, one to the other.”</p><p>“Communication is important in any relationship,” you rattled off, “both outside, and inside of the kitchen. In this challenge-”</p><p>“are you really quoting hell's kitchen at me?” Dust's grin quirked up at the edge as he huffed out a laugh.</p><p>“I might be.”</p><p>“whatzzat?”</p><p>You and Dust looked to the larger skeleton, who had perked up at the mention of a kitchen.</p><p>“It's a cooking reality show here. Lots of yelling, lots of cooking-”</p><p>“lots of wasted food. you'd hate it,” Dust cut in.</p><p>Horror looked disappointed, though from the blatant denial of trash entertainment, or at the concept of wasted food, you weren't sure. He laid his head down on the table at a frankly horrifying angle and sighed, a long, wheezy noise as he sort of deflated.</p><p>“Well...” Oh stars, you were going to regret this, “there's always Ghost Adventures, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>You regret <em>nothing.</em></p><p>You also couldn't breathe, but then again, neither could you guests.</p><p>“who asks...for a ghost...to fight them?!” Horror wheezed, sucking up a ribcagefull of air before descending back into cackles.</p><p>“not a ghost,” Dust corrected, choking on his own chuckles, “the baby-eating demonghost of...”</p><p>Both skeletons looked at you expectantly.</p><p>“Boner Lake,” you said, doing your best to sound defeated and sad after an appropriate dramatic pause. The location was apparently “Bonner Lake” but honestly. How were two skeletons going to pass up that joke. You couldn't begrudge them some 12 year old humor either, not when it got them both laughing so hard their magic crackled around their sockets like tears.</p><p>You felt oddly accomplished. You always did, when you got Dust to un-hunch his shoulders and act like maybe the weight of the world wasn't on his back.</p><p>Horror had already proved to be a little more easy-going, if not slightly single-minded, but there was clearly something rough rolling around inside that cracked skull of his. You really, really didn't want to care though. Famine or not, head injury or not, he still tried to, and did a really good job of, killing you.</p><p>You were having trouble dealing with that, and you probably were going to be for a while. Horror, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any trouble waltzing back into your life with a cake and what you thought was maybe an apology. Both of which you accepted. Well, you accepted he was sorry. And you ate the cake. Marriage offer aside, he had offered protection, though you still weren't solid on what you were being protected from. “More Murder Skeletons” was the gist, all with terrible names and worse dispositions. Except Horror was also a murder skeleton. Then again, so was Dust, and you were all set up to marry him. Which was something else you needed to think about. Except you had managed to ignore Dust's murdery bits for so long. Which you probably should not have done. Except...well now you were going in circles and giving yourself a headache.</p><p>Best to not think about it. Things were nice, right now.</p><p>“So, do we want to watch another episode, or nah?” you offered, noticing the credits were rolling, the Play Next button already selected.</p><p>“nah...harder to ignore...two of us missing.” Horror hefted himself up, startling you with the reminder of how much bigger than, well, everything, he was.</p><p>Dust sighed, “he's right,” he shoved your legs off his lap, and stood, stretching to that his spine gave a series of pops, “that's a good show though, put it in the queue, we can pick back u-”</p><p>“i want to watch...t'come back...and watch...with you,” Horror blurted, “check on, um...you, and...make sure you...eat?” His fingers rasped nervously at his deadened socket as he looked anywhere but you.</p><p>You frowned, making a dubious noise in the back of your throat, “Listen, I don't really understand the food thing you have going on. Dust tattled about a famine-”</p><p>“thanks.”</p><p>“You're welcome. But I'm not comfortable with you just showing up, whenever. I get the impulse,” hadn't you asked for Dust to return, oh so long ago, to make sure he was okay?, “but my dude, the <em>murder</em>.”</p><p>“i won't...uh, come alone. ever. only with dusty...promise. so...” he trailed off, running out of words as he tugged, aggravated, at his eye, holy <em>shit</em> that was disturbing.</p><p>“OKAY! Okay! Fuck, please, just stop with the socket thing,” you shuddered as the larger skeleton dropped his hand to his side, seemingly relieved, “I want some ground rules set though.”</p><p>Horror nodded, pulling his comically mega-monster sized (but perfectly sized for him) phone out of his inventory, flicking a few things open, then watching you intently.</p><p>“Uh, ok, so! Rule one, I always get a text before you come over and I always get to say no to a visit,” you paused as Horror pecked his way across the keyboard, his eyelight returning to you when he finished, “rule two, never, ever come here alone. I mean it. If Dust isn't here with you, I will raise hell. Or die. It depends on why you're here and who is faster,” you waited for Horror to finish typing, “number three, we're not cool. You hurt me. I'm super fucked up. I'm going to be super fucked up for a while. So we won't be cool for a while. I'm willing to work on it with you, if you really want to. But...” you were rambling, you realized, and sighed, cutting yourself off before you worked yourself up.</p><p>“uh...” Horror looked from you to his phone, “i don't...what's rule three?”</p><p>“Oh. It's. Hm. Rule Three,” you held up three fingers, “you can't be The Biggest Spookiest Skeleton here. It was Dust's go-to for a while, and you do it too. You did it already, when you-” you gestured at yourself, “came by the first time. So you can't- fuck, I <em>can't</em>, with that, from you.”</p><p>Horror typed for a <em>long</em> time. An<em> unnervingly</em> long time.</p><p>Once he was satisfied, he tucked the phone back into his inventory and nodded absently, “Those are fair...good rules.”</p><p>You were glad they met with his approval. You weren't entirely sure what you would have done if he had decided that no, he did what he wants.</p><p>“Ok, then, I guess I'll see you sooner rather than later,” you said, Dust nodding as you looked to him, “and you later than sooner?” Horror made a rumbly noise that you took as an agreement.</p><p>“don't forget...” Horror said, looking down at you seriously, “three meals...at least. every day.”</p><p>You debated telling him that yes, you knew how to eat, but decided against it. Maybe a fight for another day, but for now you were mollified by good cake and bad tv.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The apartment felt empty after the two boneheads took their leave. Though that was more because Horror took up so much stars-damned room. Then again, he had given you an idea.</p><p>It took a bit of digging, but you unearthed an ancient spiral notebook from stars only knew when. After about three false starts with pens that didn't work, you curled up around the paper, and started to write a list of your own.</p><p>In block capital letters you started at the top: SHIT TO DEAL WITH</p><p>Item number one was obvious. <em>Dust – Engaged/Marriage??</em></p><p>That could probably be sorted with a conversation or two. You certainly weren't opposed but what was skeleton-monster-marriage? You had seen him naked, that second visit, and he didn't have...well anyways he was just bone, so maybe that wasn't a thing. In smaller letters you added '<em>do skeletons fuck?</em>'</p><p>Number two was just as easy, your hand scrawling out <em>'Horror'</em>. That was it. Just, all of him. The murder thing. The food thing. The proposal thing. Actually...you wrote those down underneath.</p><p>Third thing: <em>Therapy</em>. Though how you were going to talk about it without sounding like you were completely out of your mind, you weren't sure.</p><p><em>Killer/Nightmare</em> became the fourth. You didn't have a plan for them. Dust had told you once that someone ever falling through the rift in your living room was astronomically small, and practically an impossibility for it to happen again. So if someone came, it would be on purpose. Which was the opposite of comforting. Just something else to have anxiety about. At least you had your bat. After a few moments of thinking, you scribbled out '<em>security?</em>' underneath.</p><p>That was enough, you figured. Only four things, but they were big things all on their own.</p><p>With a swift popping noise, you ripped the page out of the notebook and folded it neatly in half, slapping it under a fridge magnet with probably more fanfare than it needed. Now you would have to see it and think about it every time you used the kitchen. See, you got this, you were doing fine.</p><p>Just...just fine.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Again? You had walked in an entire circle again?! How? You stared at the drops and smudges of blood on the stone floor. You sighed, blood bubbling up from your mouth at the motion. You were cold. Your feet hurt. You could have sworn you were going in a straight line, but...you let your shoulders slump. Apparently you were trapped in circular hallway hell, accompanied by only static, drowning out the sounds of your down footsteps, your own labored breaths. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hadn't you...done this before? Wasn't someone here with you? Shouldn't you wait for them?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>'who are you waiting for?'</b>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You didn't know. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>'<b>really?'</b></em>
</p><p>
  <em>The floor lurched, the stone tiles blackening, liquefying into black, thick tar that grabbed at your feet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You jerked away, stumbling as pain seared up your chest. Grimacing, you pulled your(?) jacket closer around you. The tar was cold, writhing around your ankles as it seemed to try to climb up your legs. You were well and truly trapped.</em>
</p><p><em>The sound of static rose, sounds over sounds overlapping into a single long wail of noise. Squeaking wheels down a long hallway. Clicking of an IV regulator, on-off, on-off. Chatter from far away. Questions you couldn't understand, much less answer, the words so fast they were jamming into each other. </em>“---___?”<em>Breaths, wheezing and sharp. Metal crunching against bone. Beeps of a heart monitor, shrill and panicked.</em></p><p>
  <em>Someone was dying. Was it you? You'd leave if you could. You wanted to go home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <b>'where is that?'</b>
  </em>
</p><p>“shit, c'mon, wa--”</p><p>
  <em>Home was...a fish tank, bubbling happily, a bed with too many blankets for just you, a television with too much trash tv in the queue, something warm in the oven, hopefully done by the time D-</em>
</p><p>“<em>WAKE UP, YOU WASTE OF EXP!”</em></p><p>
  <em>You jerked, righting yourself with a gasp and locking eyes with a pair of bright red eyelights, deep inside of a skeletal face that you didn't</em>
</p><p>
  <em>recognize</em>
</p><p>
  <em>at</em>
</p><p>
  <em>all...</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm answering asks and spitting out headcannons on <a href="https://kaygee-doodles.tumblr.com/"> My Tumblr</a> if you want to shout at me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Late Nights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two and a half serious conversations</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The second part of last chapter, early as promised!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“SHE STILL HASN'T GOTTEN ANY NEW FISH!”</p><p>Dust resisted rolling his eyelights as his brother pressed his skull against the softly burbling tank.</p><p>“AT LEAST SHE'S CLEANED UP IN HERE,” Papyrus added, phasing his head through to look around, “ALL THAT ALGAE WAS REVOLTING!”</p><p>“she's probably been busy, bro, but i'll ask what her plans are,” Dust scanned the apartment as he spoke. The multiverse was not a 1 to 1 conversation on time, and when you bounced to multiple 'verses in one day, it's was possible to lose track of what time it was 'supposed' to be. Time in the castle, he had figured, was about 30 seconds for every 45 seconds in your universe, give or take, which added up.</p><p>He had hoped to make it in time for dinner (you had hinted earlier that day that it was tater-tot night), but had severely overshot, given that the microwave was showing it was just past 2 am. Oh well. Always a Sans at heart, he could go for a good nap.</p><p>Almost automatically, he shucked off his jacket and slippers, leaving them in a dusty wad on the floor, soon joined by his shirt. By your request, he now had a little bin of clothes his size in your closet to keep the worst of the monster dust off your furniture and out of your bed. He didn't mind it, and every now and again he found a new novelty shirt you had snuck in.</p><p>There was still his namesake, gritty in his joints, but without it, Dust wasn't sure he'd be so certain who he was. He was a <em>crazy </em>Sans, mad with LV and tainted with blood and dust.</p><p>But so often, with you, he found himself wandering out of your shower and into a pair of clean gym shorts and a t-shirt, his LV quieted to a dull roar by the genuine <em>joy/welcome/warmth</em> in your greeting. He still wasn't Sans, but he wasn't the weapon Nightmare turned him into either.</p><p>Papyrus was suspiciously quiet on the matter.</p><p>You, however, were being unusually loud. You were generally a quiet sleeper, clinging like a limpet and only making noise when you were jostled. Tonight, you had ended up facedown on the mattress, pillows on the floor as you mumbled incomprehensibly, twitching on occasion.</p><p>Dust sighed. Another bad dream. You had complained about them before, and he'd seen a few in action, usually ending up with you twitching awake and taking a swing at whatever was closest. Sometimes it was Dust, sometimes it was a lamp, and once you had tried to throw Dust at the lamp.</p><p>You weren't...waking up though.</p><p>“hey, _____?” he flicked the bedside lamp on and reached out, his phalanges barely brushing your shoulder before you jerked away, twisting in your sheets and almost off the bed. Your cheeks were shiny with tears. “shit, c'mon, wake up, it's just a-” he swallowed thickly, “-a nightmare.” He grimaced, his LV flaring, demanding blood for your fear. Behind him,Papyrus sighed, aggravated.</p><p>Your hands, previously curled defensively in front of you, shot out, you nails digging into his radius as he gathered you up into a small wad of tears, sheets, and human. Not even a dent in his HP. Scared as you were, you still couldn't muster any harmful intent.</p><p>Stupid girl.</p><p>He reached out with his magic, bouncing his own Intent into his magic in your soul. <em>Protection/safety</em> was as much as he could risk. Anything more and his LV might leak through, and the night was already turning out to be a fiasco.</p><p>You answered back with a flurry of confusion, and pain. A long stone hall. Blood covered hands. An abrupt sinking feeling. “WAKE UP-”</p><p>You jerked awake, reeling backwards in Dust's grasp as the connection snapped, all the Intent rebounding onto the both of you. Dust hoped he caught the worst of it, gritting his teeth against the wave of panic and confusion that wasn't his as he reeled you back into his lap.</p><p>He waited you out, feeling you shift and curl, looking around before finally scooting against him, letting your forehead thunk against his sternum. The two of you sat in silence, Dust pretending not to notice as your sniffles died out and the wet spot on his shirt stopped spreading.</p><p>Finally, you leaned back.</p><p>“well don't look so happy to see me,” Dust said, looking down to see you, eyes wide and watery, looking up from the little wad you had tucked yourself into.</p><p>“Sorry, did I wake you?”</p><p>“nah. i just got here, and it looked like you could use a wake up call.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, it was...unpleasant,” you slowly pulled your hands off his arms, rubbing over where your nails had (completely ineffectively) dug in apologetically, “I barely remember it now though.”</p><p>Dust didn't want to ask. He regretted asking before he ever spoke. No good would come from this line of questioning, but he needed to know. “what do you remember?”</p><p>You scratched at the collar of your shirt, where the edge of your scar was barely peeking out, “There was some kind of endless hallway, like a trick maze or something that just kept on going, and I couldn't find my way out? I was looking for something, maybe, and I started sinking into the floor, only the floor was suddenly slime?”</p><p>“were you alone?”<br/>“Um, no,” <em>shit.</em> “I think that's what woke me up, there was someone else...a skeleton, but they didn't look like you, and they weren't...” You reached up and grabbed Dust's face, pressing against the sides, though not painfully, “It wasn't a human-type skeleton, but I only saw their skull. It was kind of...longer than yours, like if someone squished your face at the sides and then pulled out your cheekbones.”</p><p>“i'm not made of putty,” Dust grabbed your hands, finally getting a smile out of you.</p><p>“I know, I know, but that's just what it was like. They had red eyes, or eyelights, but oval and kind of flat looking- uh, are you okay?”<br/>Dust was quick to paste a smile back on his face, hoping you would overlook any nervous slime/sweat production. <em>There was no way. No fucking way.</em> “'m fine. anything else you remember?”</p><p>“Um. They were really loud?”</p><p>“I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR PETS FOR YOU ALL THE TIME, SANS. IF YOU CAN'T DO IT, YOU CAN'T KEEP HER.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Dust was still holding your hands. He was also clearly waiting for you to do...something. You supposed some kind of reaction was necessary.</p><p>But.</p><p>Um.</p><p>What do you say when your bonefriend confesses he is haunted by the body-less ghost of his dead brother, Papyrus, who he murdered, and helps encourage him to, if you understood correctly, kill more people and also serve proper penance for killing all of his friends and family. Nobody could see him. Or hear him. Except you, just now. But it was okay, because this brother-ghost was who woke you up from what was most certainly more of a Nightmare-with-a-capital-'N' than a nightmare, so he probably liked you.</p><p>“So he's been around this whole time?” you asked finally, “As in, the whole, whole time?”</p><p>Dust bobbled his head from side to side, “most of the time. sometimes he isn't, but he always comes back.”</p><p>“Weird question, was Ghost Adventures offensive to him?”</p><p>Dust narrowed his sockets, the ring in his eyelight expanding ad the red in both sockets flared, “that's it? don't you think i'm...crazy? <em>unstable</em>?”</p><p>
  <em>Oooh boy. Here we go.</em>
</p><p>“Yes, and yes, but that was before I knew that you were haunted, but I live a life where there is a multi-dimensional hole in my ceiling, a <em>massive</em> version of you wants to marry me, and my soul is a misshapen blob of someone else's magic. Added to that, I have been also successfully ignoring that you, and the company you keep, have killed hundreds of people. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, and I am almost positive that pretending that aspect of you doesn't exist is going to blow up in my face in a spectacular fashion!” you had to stop to take a breath, “But it's worked really well for me so far, so frankly a murder-ghost is really just,” you wiggled your hands in his, “more weird to add to the giant stack of weird. I keep telling you, I'm all weirded out. You can keep adding shit to the pile, but I'm just going to add it to the list and get to it later. It does explain all the mumbling during your Bad Days though, so I'm glad to have an answer to that.” You paused for a moment, “Okay, I think I'm done monologuing Your turn.”</p><p>Dust looked a little lost as he squeezed your hands, “you are taking this extremely well. not that you could get away at this point if you wanted me gone. the lack of disbelief is new though.”</p><p>“Don't your murder-friends-”</p><p>“they tolerate papyrus,” Dust cut you off.</p><p>Ooookay, you weren't going to touch that one.</p><p>“Right. Moving on. So if I can't see Papyrus, why and how did he yell at me? Not that I don't appreciate the save.”</p><p>Dust paused and tilted his head.</p><p>“Papyrus says it's because I connected my soul to yours, when you wouldn't wake up. wanted to know why.”</p><p>“And we're absolutely positive that's still not a sex thing?”</p><p>“oh my god.” You had never seen a skeleton deflate before, but Dust certainly tried.</p><p>“I mean, we're engaged, we're holding hands, it's only a matter of time,” you teased, letting go easily when Dust snatched his hands back,”Calm down, I'm just messing with you. I've at least got that bit figured out.” Your smile was marred by a yawn, and you let yourself roll backwards out of Dusts' lap reluctantly. He was always so warm, and oddly comfy for bone, “I don't suppose I could talk you, and Papyrus I guess, into staying the night? It's either really late, or really early. I know we need to talk about Nightmare, but...” you trailed off, flicking your sheets straight and giving Dust your best 'sad pathetic human' face.</p><p>“i'll step up plans for getting you some security, call in a few favors,” Dust assured you, scooting under the covers with you, “just try to have a<em> good </em>night this time.”</p><p>“What, no bedtime story? No goodnight kisses?” you snarked, clicking the lamp off.</p><p>“sure, if you want,”</p><p>You turned too late as Dust moved in the dark. A warm cheek and the side of his smile, pressed against the side of your own flushing face, a small wave of static washing over the area as he pressed into you, an odd sort of nuzzle.</p><p>“that's how skeletons kiss. in case you were curious.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>GASP! Dust stole a smooch!<br/>I wonder how long Reader's denial is going to hold up as the list of weird gets longer? Reader is also learning from the best at how to deflect unpleasant conversations. Not the best coping mechanism to pick up, MC.<br/>Make your guesses on <a href="https://kaygee-doodles.tumblr.com/"> My Tumblr</a>, where I'm answering questions and now apparently doing answer-drawings when time permits. Because that's just a thing I'm doing now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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